A Gentlemen's Wager
by EllipsesBandit
Summary: Ever wonder why Fuji never exacts inhuman tennis vengeance against Atobe after the Hyotei match? This is my effort to explain it, along with a suitable does of InuKai drama. TezFuji, InuiKai, Silver Pair, Atoji. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: _Prince of Tennis_ is not mine. Blame everything on Konomi Takeshi. I do.

Pairings: Tezuka/Fuji, Inu/Kai, Silver Pair, slight Atoji

Rating: T for shounen-ai fluff

A/N: This is sort of a sequel to _Cinnamon_. I tried to make it stand alone, but it makes a little more sense if you've read the previous one first. As yet, this story is unfinished, but now that I think I know where it's going, I'm going to start posting. If people like it, I'll keep posting, so please R/R. Constructive criticism always appreciated!

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Tezuka had been having a very nice dream in which he was sitting by a quiet stream, tossing in the dismantled parts of the torturous equipment his rehabilitation coach swore would improve his arm's flexibility, when a swarm of angry bees entered the vision. It was only after a few unsuccessful swats that Tezuka realized his cell phone was buzzing on the bedside table. He fumbled for his glasses which allowed him to read the time as 3:17am. Who did he know that was inconsiderate enough to phone him at three in the morning?

He mumbled a sleepy hello in an odd fusion of Japanese and German

"Tezuka, is your girlfriend attempting to kill ore-sama?"

Ah. Of course. He was tempted to hang up, but Atobe was rich enough to charter a flight to Germany tomorrow if he felt offended.

"Atobe, you are aware of what time it is in here?"

"The matter is urgent."

Tezuka ran a hand through his hair. "Who is trying to kill you?"

"Ore-sama has just received a letter from Fuji Syusuke."

Tezuka sat up a little straighter at the name. "Fuji is not my--"

"Ore-sama is neither blind nor an idiot, Tezuka."

Damn Atobe and his damned Insight. Half the Kanto region was probably aware of him and Fuji now.

"Nor does ore-sama enjoy repeating himself."

Tezuka shook his head. Fuji certainly had no love for the Hyotei buchou after the incident in the regional tournament. The tensai's policies on vengeance were well-rumored and ill proven. Once, Tezuka had attempted to look up the senpai who had originally injured his arm. He found a notice of a transfer, and there the paper trail abruptly ended. He chose not to investigate further. He had spoken with Fuji on the matter of Atobe before leaving, but that didn't mean Fuji hadn't found a loophole in their agreement.

"I don't advise opening it too close to your face," Tezuka muttered, adjusting his glasses.

"Ore-sama has servants for these things."

"What does the letter say?" Tezuka sighed. Better to just get the him off the phone as quickly as possible. He could call Fuji when he was more conscious.

"It appears to be a thank you card."

Perhaps he was still asleep, and this was just another surreal dream. "What is Fuji thanking you for?"

"That is what ore-sama called you to find out," Atobe huffed. "The note simply states, 'thank you for a most enlightening match.' What exactly did ore-sama enlighten him about?"

Enlightening? That was odd word choice. The hell did Fuji mean by ...

Oh.

"He was probably just being polite to that Akutagawa person. It's rare Fuji gets to play a challenging opponent," Tezuka covered. Not that 6-1 was really considered a challenge.

"The letter was not addressed to Jirou. It was addressed to ore-sama."

"Well, were there any powdery substances enclosed? Small explosives?"

"Levity is not appreciated at this moment, Tezuka."

"You're over-reacting, Atobe. Fuji is very polite--"

"It is ore-sama's understanding that he was 'very polite' to that Son Rodolfo manager as well. Ore-sama does not appreciate being blamed for things that were _not_ ore-sama's fault. Your girlfriend is aware that the outcome of that match was _not _ore-sama's fault?"

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped referring to Fuji as that."

"And ore-sama would appreciate if you would focus on the matter at hand. Namely, ore-sama's personal safety." Atobe sounded annoyed. Good.

"I don't know why Fuji sent you a thank you card. I am neither his secretary nor his parole officer. If you have an issue with him, I suggest you call him. It's even a decent enough hour to call in Japan."

"Explain exactly what that match 'enlightened' him about first," Atobe demanded.

The memory of Fuji caused Tezuka to hesitate a moment too long before saying "No idea." God, he hoped Insight didn't work over the phone.

A pause in which Tezuka could see Atobe adopting that stupid pose. "Perhaps ore-sama is thinking along the wrong lines. Perhaps Fuji is not the 'enlightened' person, ah?"

He was not up to dealing with this now. "I'll speak with Fuji tomorrow."

"Hm. Do so. And please do not let your newly 'enlightened' state affect matters, ah? Take care of your arm, Tezuka."

Tezuka hung up without saying goodbye. He was awake now, and far too irritated to sleep. Might as well get this over with.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuta enjoyed video games, largely because Syusuke was so very bad at them. Honestly, Yuuta had his suspicions about his elder brother hiding his skill, but he still enjoyed beating him at something. Besides, he found it much easier to behave amicably toward his aniki while pummeling a CG avatar of him. They could talk normally then, without any seas of bitterness rising up.

Except of course when Aniki's cell phone let out that annoyingly cheerful ring. Yuuta knew that ring, and was already rolling his eyes when Syusuke hit the pause button.

"Aniki, we're in the middle of a game," he sighed.

"Just a moment, Yuuta," Syusuke smiled. _A moment, my ass_, Yuuta thought. Not with the Tezuka ring it wasn't. He slumped his head back on the sofa.

"Tezuka?" Syusuke said, frowning. "It's 3:30 in the morning there. Is everything all right?" Trust Aniki to know the exact time at Tezuka's current location. The brown teddy bear phonestrap bobbed up at down, smiling mockingly at Yuuta. The stupid googly eyes always freaked him out, and he was pretty sure Syusuke knew that.

A pause before Syusuke continued. "Ah. He did get my letter then."

Letter? Must be another one of Aniki's vengeance missions. Yuuta considered attempting to eavesdrop, but then realized he _really_ didn't want to. Instead, he hit buttons that no longer had any effect on the frozen game and tried to think about anything that was not his brother and Seigaku's buchou.

Not that Aniki made this easy.

"I was simply trying to find a silver lining, Tezuka. You know if you hadn't played him in that match and hadn't injured yourself badly enough that you needed to flee the country, you never would have kissed me."

"I'm getting a soda now," Yuuta announced with another eye roll. Aniki could at least have the courtesy to take the phone to another room. Yuuta walked out, opened the fridge, glared at the lack of orange Ponta, settled for peach flavor, closed the fridge, opened the can, cursed as it erupted on his shirt, cleaned the shirt, drank the can's remains very slowly, and then returned to the living room...

...where Aniki was _still_ talking with Tezuka.

The screensaver had long since taken over the TV, so Yuuta sat back down to watch the logo bounce around the screen. Maybe he could try to predict the angle it would rebound at. Couldn't be too much different from a tennis ball. "Aniki, can we get back to the game?" he muttered.

Syusuke either ignored him or was too deep in Tezuka mode to actually register other voices.

Yuuta tried again. "Aniki, Mizuki-san asked me out again the other day. He keeps wanting to take me to that ramen house you like."

No response.

"We're thinking of getting married after we graduate."

Still nothing. Yuuta reached over Syusuke's shoulder and hit the start button on the other controller. His own space pod zoomed onto the screen while his brother's idled on the sideline, occasionally being slammed into by other pods. Damn, Syusuke must be serious. Why, Yuuta wasn't sure seeing as he always thought Tezuka had the personality of brick wall, though the wall had better conversational skills. Then again, Aniki had always had weird taste. Yuuta remembered the Tachibana days and the Saeki days and could see it all starting all over again. He made a mental note to buy more violent video games as future conversations with Aniki were undoubtedly going to double in their annoyance factor.

At least it sounded like the conversation was wrapping up.

"I will. This week. Mn. No, I won't play tennis with him. Mn. Everything will be fine, Tezuka. Mn?"

A pause, and then Yuuta saw his brother's eyes reflected in the TV screen. For a moment, Syusuke seemed at a loss for words, and then he stuttered -- something Yuuta could never remember him doing before -- "I ... I miss you too. Mn. Ja." He pushed the end button and stared at the phone for a moment. Yuuta pretended not to notice, and rammed his vehicle into Syusuke's at the next opportunity.

"Ne, Yuuta," Aniki began as he attempted to turn his space pod in the right direction. "Do you want to come with me to Hyotei on Tuesday?"

"Uh, no. Why the hell would you want to go there?" Yuuta vividly remembered that sleepy boy defeating him with his eyes half-closed. The idea of visiting that guy's snobby academy had about the same appeal clothes shopping with Mizuki-san. Well, maybe a little more appeal than that.

"I have a few matters to clear up with their buchou, and Tezuka seems to think I need a chaperone."

"Not me. I have practice till five, and Yanagisawa asked me to help him work on his rising shot after," Yuuta insisted, spinning around a tight corner without even scraping the wall. He figured anyone chaperoning Aniki in the presence of the guy who had injured his precious Tezuka should be equipped with tasers and a tranquilizer gun.

"I still think there are better schools out there for you," Syusuke sighed, shaking his head. This argument was as old as Yuuta's enrollment at Son Rodolfo. "You'd do very well at Fudomine. Tachibana would be pleased to have you."

_And pleased to watch me like a hawk and report my every move back to you_, Yuuta thought. "Aniki, focus on the game."

Syusuke smiled patiently, having finally gotten his vehicle moving the right direction. His eyes, however, gave away his true focus as they continually flitted back to the now silent cell phone. A faint menace gleamed in them when they opened, a menace Yuuta had seen too many times for his own comfort. He wouldn't have traded places with the Hyotei buchou for all the money in the preppy kid's bank account.

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A/N: And that's all for today. It'll probably be at least a week before another update as I have this whole career thing that takes up most of my time, but hopefully I will finish this one.


	3. Chapter 3

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 3_

_Disclaimer: Still not mine, thank the gods._

Inui always felt suspicious when Fuji approached him. It wasn't that he didn't like the tensai. On the contrary, he had a great deal of respect for anyone who played tennis with a style that sneaky. Besides, Fuji was polite and an overall nice person 95 percent of the time. Still, Inui found him unnerving. 30 percent of this anxiety originated in Fuji's immunity to every juice Inui had invented (though he was working on a promising vinegar-based mix), but 67 percent of the suspicion stemmed from the fact that Inui was completely unable to predict Fuji's moves, on or off the court. Fuji defied data, and Inui was suspicious of anything that defied data. The remaining 3 percent came from Fuji's wrists which, according to the laws of physics, should not be able to supply the power he had shown them capable of.

Also, Inui had enough data on Tezuka to realize that if he upset Fuji, there was a 98 percent chance he would be off the regulars, and he would not go through that again.

"Inui, may I have a word with you?" Fuji asked after practice. He smiled beatifically down at the manager who was adjusting his own ankle weights.

"Kaidoh and I are meeting for a cool down run. Will it take long?" Inui asked, standing up and adjusting his glasses.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd accompany me on a cool down run. I need to pay a visit to Hyotei, and Eiji's busy with Oishi tonight. Would you care to join me?"

"Hyotei?" Inui attempted to scrutinize the tensai's face. A visit to Hyotei by Fuji had a 64 percent chance of being a vengeance visit and a 36 percent chance of being a precursor to a vengeance visit. "If you need any data on them, I can let you borrow some of my analyses. Atobe's is 28 percent incomplete, but the rest of the team is rounded out."

"Actually, Tezuka has asked me to speak to Atobe personally, but I thought you might like to join me. If you're busy tonight, I could delay it till tomorrow," Fuji offered.

"Tezuka asked you to speak to Atobe?" Fuji nodded, face serene. There was a 57 percent chance Fuji was lying. That smile always affected Inui's calculations, though. Best to speak to Tezuka about this before agreeing to any of the tensai's plans. "As I said, Kaidoh and I are continuing our doubles training. I will need to speak with him first."

"Of course, though if it's doubles information you need, you really should come with me."

Inui raised an eyebrow over his glasses. "Oh?"

"Mn," Fuji's smile curved 8 percent upward. "The pair who beat you during the qualifiers ... your data on them must be somewhat incomplete. They would be a good study for you and Kaidoh."

"Is that so?"

"They're a young combination as well, though similar in style to the two of you. Even in age. It's a shame Shishido will be graduating next year. Have you considered if you'll be continuing doubles in high school?"

Fuji said the question breezily, though Inui was almost certain (88 percent) that Fuji knew he had recently been considering this. Of course Inui knew his ...relationship with Kaidoh would be challenged when he graduated. He was still analyzing the different options.

"It would be good data for you," Fuji continued, shrugging. "Speak to Tezuka first, if you like. But I hope you'll come." And with that Fuji glided over to the clubhouse.

Good data. While there was a 75 percent chance Fuji was right, Inui decided not to proceed until speaking with Tezuka. He would not get involved in any tensai manipulations unless he was at least 96 percent certain of Fuji's desired outcomes.


	4. Chapter 4

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 4_

_Disclaimer: Still not mine_

Atobe saw the two approaching Seigaku members and wondered just what the hell he'd done in a previous life to deserve this.

Luckily, he glimpsed them as he was walking out of the showers, able to turn around under the pretense of having forgotten something behind him. Fuji he had at least expected and prepared for, though admitedly sooner. The tensai smiled his usual, peacefully lethal smile as he strolled through the Hyotei tennis gates. How anyone strolled into a campus that was supposedly more secure than most royal treasuries was a mystery in itself.

But no, the real surprise was the data tennis specialist walking next to Fuji. Inui's expression remained hidden behind his glasses, but the absinthe-green water bottle in his hand spoke for his true purpose. Atobe had a strategy for Fuji, but Inui would need to be distracted. He needed a moment to prepare, and he would not allow both of Seigaku's tacticians to parade around on _his_ court while he did so. He did his duty as buchou immediately...

...and sicked Jirou on them both.

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"Fuji-kun! Sugoi! Sugoi! Sugoi!" Jirou cried. Despite having been very rudely awakened by Gakuto's megaphone, Jirou sprang at his most favoritest rival ever. Well, next to Atobe-sama and Marui-kun. Still, Fuji-kun was pretty sugoi ...and at Hyotei, which meant Atobe-sama had probably said something to Tezuka which meant Fuji was probably angry and Jirou was the only person at Hyotei who could defuse an angry tensai in minutes.

And people called him lazy.

"What are you doing here? Did your practice let out early? Did you want to play a match? I could get Gakuto to play doubles with us! It'd make Oshitari really mad!"

"Thank you," Fuji began, gently prying off the shorter boy's arms, "but actually Tezuka sent us. I need to speak with Atobe-san. Show me where he is?" He phrased the words like a question, but the flicker of brilliant blue eyes told Jirou otherwise. Distraction time.

The volley specialist cocked his head to one side. "You don't want to play tennis with him, do you? He just showered, and he won't want to get sweaty again. Ne, Fuji-kun, you should come play a quick match with me. Oshitari keeps trying to do that bear move and twisting up his ankle. It's really funny. You should show him how it's supposed to look."

"Oshitari-san doesn't have the balance for the Higuma Otoshii, but I don't really have time at the moment. Inui, where do you think Atobe is?" Fuji glanced at his companion.

"The probability that he is still in the clubhouse is 76 percent. 20 percent that he has returned to his dormitory," Inui replied, adjusting his glasses. He looked up towards the main tennis courts, almost as if he were searching for something, but not in the direction he predicted Atobe to be in. "If you don't mind, I think I'll try to collect some data in the doubles courts."

Jirou blinked for a moment. Practice was over, so what data could he hope to gather. He tried to remember who Inui had played during the Hyotei match, but he'd been asleep until his own game. Inui's team had lost though, so that meant they'd played the Silver Pair ... who usually practiced long after everyone else left. At least, they said they were practicing.

Jirou smiled. If that was the kind of data Inui was after, he'd seriously underestimated Seigaku's manager. "Shishido and Ohtori are probably the only people left. They're on C court."

"I'll call you when I'm done here," Fuji breezed. "Akutagawa-kun can take me to Atobe. Can't you?" The tensai smiled at Jirou, but the smile held a predatory hint to it. Jirou did not enjoy being the object of that smile. He fervently hoped he'd stalled enough that Atobe was in no immediate danger from Fuji's wrath. At the very least, he could keep Atobe from having to be alone with Fuji.

"I guess. He's in his office. I'll go with you." Jirou took Fuji's elbow and continued to babble as cheerfully as he could. "But when you guys are done, we should play for a bit. I slept through most of practice, so I didn't get a good workout in. Can you teach me to do that one move? The one that made the zzzzzzhhhhooooooom on the court?"

"Tsubame Gaeshi?" Fuji asked, looking amused. Good. Amused was good. An amused tensai was a less dangerous tensai.

"Yeah, that one! Is the wind strong enough for that whale return? Maybe we could borrow some fans ..."

_A/N: Couple of short chapters today. Next up, adventures with Inui and Shishido! Thanks so much to all my reviewers for encouraging me to keep this going. Special thanks to Microgirl and Whisper for the pats on the head. _


	5. Chapter 5

_High fives held eight seconds_, Inui noted as he watched the Silver Pair practice. The two appeared to be working on the accuracy of Ohtori's Scud Serve. Inui had to admit the serve was formidable, though neither of them had much experience with designing training menus. Ohtori hit the serve again and again, but he had no clear point of focus other than Shishido. Additionally, he served with only 60 percent of his power to conserve energy. This method alone would not improve accuracy in a competitive situation.

However, tennis data was not the object of Inui's current mission. Analyzing tennis strategy did not usually require one to crouch covertly behind a bench.

_Shishido crosses net six times to adjust Ohtori's stance. Stance does not require adjusting._

Overall, the data frustrated Inui. In training sessions, the Silver Pair acted nearly identically to himself and Kaidoh. He could get no useful information from merely observing them, which meant he would still be at a loss when he returned to Seigaku and to Kaidoh.

Another tick mark: _Seven times._

In truth, Inui was worried. He and Kaidoh had been not quite dating for almost a month now, and despite Inui's very conservative calculations about the success of their relationship, they were succeeding: a simultaneously wonderful and terrifying prospect.

The terror came from two sources: Momoshiro Takeshi and Yanagi Renji.

_Ohtori uses handkerchief to wipe sweat from Shishido. 3rd instance._

Momoshiro liked Kaidoh. Inui had been certain of this from the moment he'd first laid eyes on the two freshmen brawling in the locker room. He'd thought nothing of it then, but now the matter worried him. Next year, Inui would be graduating and Kaidoh would remain at Seigaku. With Momoshiro. Possibly even playing doubles. The thought made Inui feel like he'd just ingested a failed Aozu prototype. While he had both the data and Kaidoh's own assurances that Momoshiro's feelings were one-sided, he knew both could be altered if he screwed up.

_Possible stolen kiss by Ohtori. Vision blocked by Shishido's hat._

And he had a 76 percent chance of screwing up in the Kanto tourney. The match with Hyotei had made Inui feel bad enough. Kaidoh held no grudge, but he couldn't forget that it was his poorly calculated shot that altered the game, his lapse in concentration. And if Hyotei made him lapse, the finals would be ten times worse. He'd run the figures again and again, hoping for a wild card -- some X factor that would upset the qualifying rounds, but he couldn't deny the numbers. Seigaku would be playing Rikkaidai in the finals, and Renji would be there. 58 percent chance in Singles 2, 42 percent chance in Singles 3; Renji no longer played doubles. The issue Inui had been ignoring for so very long was about to be standing across the net from him again, and Inui knew there was a 76 percent chance it would cost him Kaidoh.

He began to write again. _Silver Pair continues --_

Actually, the Silver Pair had disappeared. He had been too lost in his own thoughts to notice. Damn it. So much for finding a fresh example of a doubles combination. In any case, he should find Fuji before the tensai caused too much trouble. Tezuka had asked him ...

"Hey, Seigaku," snapped an annoyed voice from above Inui's head. "Is there a reason you're spying on me and Choutarou?"

Well, this was going to be fun explaining.

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Technically, the office belonged to Coach Sakaki. However, Sakaki preferred his office in the music department to his one near the tennis clubhouse, so Atobe had requested to use it. Atobe scheduled practice matches, arranged training menus, and prepared the line ups for competition anyway, so he needed the space more than the coach. Besides, Atobe was far more savvy about interior design. At least, that's what Jirou told Fuji as the two entered the room. Personally, Fuji questioned the taste of anyone who hung more than four portraits of themselves in the same room.

Fuji had been in Ryuzaki-sensei's office many times, though never comfortably. The ancient metal desk took up most of the space while rows of dull gray filing cabinets took up the rest. Ryuzaki-sensei had squeezed in avocado green rolling chairs both so abused that leaning back in one would result in the seat separating from the base and dumping the unlucky occupant onto the floor. When asked why she didn't use some of the budget to purchase a new chair, at least for herself, she usually replied that the budget was for tennis supplies, not comfort. It was better training for them to stand anyway. Oishi had actually started a fund amongst the third years to purchase Ryuzaki a new chair when the six graduated.

What Atobe must have spent furnishing the "office" could have kept Seigaku in racquet strings and grip tape well into the next millennium. To begin with, the room was larger than most of Fuji's classrooms. Yards of royal purple velvet and gold rope draped the walls. The rug Fuji walked in upon probably cost the same as Ryuzaki-sensei's yearly salary. At the height of the room stood an imposing oak desk with taloned feet, the Hyotei crest carved into its front panel. And behind the desk, in a throne more lush than any emperor's, sat Atobe Keigo. He didn't look up after Jirou knocked and bounced into the room. Instead, he kept his attention focused on the stack of papers in front of him. Fuji nearly chuckled at the slender, oval reading glasses Atobe had adopted. The tensai had never seen Atobe wear glasses before and wondered if they were simply for effect.

"Atobe-buchou," Jirou beamed, "Fuji-kun's here to see you."

Atobe glanced up as if he hadn't noticed anyone had come in. "Seigaku's Fuji Syusuke. To what does Hyotei owe the honor?" the boy asked, ceremoniously removing the glasses. Fuji made a mental note to add fake glasses to his list of things he didn't like about Atobe.

"Tezuka told me you may have misunderstood my letter," Fuji began. He forced his smile to brighten. "I just wanted to assure you that my intentions were honest."

Jirou meanwhile had apparently decided the conversation was going to be a boring one and hopped onto a plush, purple sofa by the side of the room. Fuji wondered why anyone needed a sofa in an office, but he supposed with Jirou on the team, there could be a reason. The volley specialist curled up around a gold throw pillow and promptly fell asleep. At least he looked asleep. After that first match, Fuji had learned Jirou had his own skills in disguising appearances.

"Indeed. Actually, the matter has been cleared up," Atobe continued. "You're quite welcome, by the way."

"Mn," Fuji said, because Tezuka would be upset if he said anything else. "Ja, then." Fuji turned to leave, but Atobe's voice stopped him.

"Do you know when he'll be returning? He owes ore-sama a proper rematch."

Fuji turned back, bristling. The man who sent Tezuka to Germany had no right to casually ask when he'd be back. "He'll return when his arm is fully healed, though if you wanted to play against him, I'm afraid there's a rather long line forming."

"Best hope it's before the finals, ah?" Atobe rested his chin on his hand, raising one eyebrow.

Fuji took a deep breath, trying to remember Tezuka asking him to be diplomatic. Tezuka saying he'd return soon. Saying he missed him. There, that did it. When Fuji spoke again, his voice remained even, "Seigaku is strong even without Tezuka. We will persevere." He thought he saw Jirou's eyes twitch open on the sofa, but couldn't be sure.

Atobe's hand rose to his face. Fuji would have rolled his eyes if that hadn't meant opening them, which the snobby buchou was not worth. He dared Atobe to see what he was thinking right now. "Seigaku is strong, but you'll undoubtedly be playing Rikkaidai. Their Sanada is not a person to be trifled with."

"Nor am I." Fuji caught the hiss in his voice before it became too pronounced. He didn't know what Atobe hoped to accomplish by insulting the tensai, but Fuji did not enjoy being manipulated. Tezuka. This was for Tezuka. "If you're finished ..."

"A wager, then," Atobe said, rising. Standing, Atobe's wardrobe was much more obvious. It took an amazing amount of confidence to wear that many ruffles, and Fuji found himself annoyed that Atobe could pull it off. "You're aware ore-sama wants the first match against Tezuka, an honor ore-sama assumes you possess, ah?"

Fuji nodded, an eyebrow raised.

"If you lose to Sanada, give the position up."

For a moment, Fuji waited for the hidden cameras to be revealed, but Atobe appeared as serious as he could be in that fuscia top. "As you say," Fuji replied, "Tezuka has already said he would play me first. Why would I bet for something I already possess?"

"Because if Seigaku wins, ore-sama will personally pay for your flight to deliver the championship medal to Tezuka."

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_A/N: So didn't get to Shishido and Inui's conversation just yet, but at least I've finally shown why the title is the title. I have a plot! I swear it! I'd even get to it if Inui and Kaidoh would leave me alone for a second. Sigh. So Shishi will be in the next chapter with more than a line this time. Thanks again to all my reviewers and my super-betas! I'll update again as soon as I'm sure the next scene is going to stay the next scene.  
_


	6. Chapter 6

A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 6

_A/N: Playing doubles is quite possibly the dumbest euphemism in the history of ever. Prepare to read it many times. _

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"I'm here chaperoning Fuji," the Seigaku boy began. Shishido couldn't remember his name, just that he and Choutarou had beaten him so his name wasn't worth remembering. He did, however, remember the extremely irritating data tennis the boy played.

Shishido looked around skeptically, "I don't see him anywhere."

"He's with Atobe at the moment. I'm waiting until they are finished."

"So you thought you'd spy on us in the meantime?"

The Seigaku guy stood, apparently trying to intimidate him with height. Yeah, like no one had ever tried that before. Plus, people were much less intimidating when they'd just been crouched behind a bench attempting to spy.

"I thought I'd gather some data on your doubles formation, yes. Kaidoh and I are looking for new techniques."

"Nice try. We weren't playing doubles. We were working on the Scud Serve."

He thought he saw the analyst flinch, but with those glasses, who could tell? "Doubles, as you know, is more than just strategy. I am collecting data on the ...other relationships involved in the game as well."

_Relationships?_ "You mean you're analyzing how people date now too?" Shishido raised an eyebrow. He decided there was no reason to hide the fact. It wasn't like he and Choutarou were much of a secret in the Kanto region anyway, and honestly Shishido preferred it that way; more people knew Choutarou was taken.

The boy's eyebrows narrowed. "To put it frankly."

Shishido had to fight to keep from laughing. It would completely ruin his image. He supposed now that he actually considered it, the pair he competed against had shown signs of being a _doubles_ team. He remembered one point where the data player's hand had stayed on his partner's shoulder for nearly a full minute while Shishido waited for the game to continue. "Get in a fight with your doubles partner or something?"

The Seigaku boy's spine straightened as he adjusted his ridiculous glasses. "I'm merely collecting the information we'll be needing for next year. I'll be graduating, and Kaidoh will not. I understood you and Ohtori would be in a similar situation, and thought I'd see how you were addressing the issue."

"Issue? What issue?" If there was an issue, Shishido would know about it. Choutarou warned him when there were issues.

"The issue of being separated. Will either of you be continuing to play doubles?"

"Choutarou will be captain, next year. He won't have to worry about it," Shishido said with an impressive amount of confidence. The dash specialist had faith in very few things, but Choutarou's skill was one of them. If Hiyoshi even thought he could give him a run for his money, Shishido would show him exactly where he could stick his damn Tennis Fu or whatever he called it.

Inui made some marks in his notebook. Shishido frowned as his attempt to glance over the top failed. "And you?"

"What about me? I know how to play singles. We'll keep up our doubles game after practice and both be at the same school next year." It wasn't like either of them had much choice about their schools. Neither of their parents would hear of them attending an academy less prestigious than Hyotei's high school branch. The only good part of the situation, as far as Shishido was concerned, was the high school campus stood a mere block and a half from the middle school.

Another scratch in the book. "And you're not concerned that Ohtori will find someone else in your absence?" he asked in an almost offhand manner.

Shishido shot him a look that could have stunned a bison. "Where the hell do you get off asking me that?"

The Seigaku remained impassive. "I'm simply trying to analyze all possible outcomes."

"Well it isn't a possible outcome. I trust Choutarou, okay? You can't do the same for your doubles partner, it's your problem, not ours." Besides, after what happened with Taki, Shishido doubted anyone had the guts to come between the Silver Pair any longer. With luck, Ohtori's former doubles partner would be able to play tennis again before Nationals ... though not as a regular. Shishido permitted himself a small smile at the thought.

The taller boy frowned, scratching another character in his book. Shishido couldn't be sure, but it looked as if he was underlining it. "Your trust in him, where does it originate?"

"Seriously?" If this was another one of Gakuto's set ups, Shishido was going to see the redhead's chin on the receiving end of a rising shot. The Seigaku, however, didn't so much as chuckle. He nodded, completely earnest in his analysis. Shishido wondered if everyone at Seigaku was this messed up. "Because he's worth trusting, and he's the only person in this damn school who is. He doesn't cheat. He doesn't lie. And he says what's on his mind before it becomes a big deal. Why else do you trust someone?"

"Hmm," the boy mumbled, making a few more notes. "And you return this honesty."

"With Choutarou? Yeah. You can't play doubles if you don't, let alone date." Shishido watched the pencil scribble across the page. "You're really writing all this down. No wonder we beat you guys."

"Perhaps we'll be able to arrange a rematch soon. Kaidoh would certainly be glad of the opportunity. His Boomerang Snake continues to improve."

"Not gonna help if he can't hit Choutarou's serve," Shishido countered. "My advice, get your personal lives together first. Whatever's messing with your head, I say just tell him. It's easier in the long run, trust me."

"I will consider this information," the Seigaku answered, snapping shut the notebook.

"Do that. And quit the spying. It's creepy." Shishido turned to stalk off.

"Ohtori's serve," the boy began, causing Shishido turn around. "He won't improve without a target for accuracy. And the target ought to be at least 70 centimeters off the ground so he can judge the ball's path. A ring of some sort would be most effective."

Shishido raised another eyebrow. The idea actually had some truth to it. Choutarou did need to judge the ball while it was in the air. A ring? Once he'd gone to hide from fangirls in an abandoned construction site not too far off campus. It housed a ton of concrete slabs, a lot of which had holes in them. He could convince Choutarou to go with him...

He realized the other boy was staring at him and quickly said, "Whatever." Shishido headed back in the direction of the clubhouse, only to find himself nearly knocked over by a rather overzealous Jirou darting from Atobe's "office."

"Inui-kun!" he heard Jirou shout. "Fuji-kun needs you. Hurry so we don't leave them alone for too long!" Jirou raced back as spastically as he had come.

So Atobe really was meeting with Seigaku's tensai. Shishido remembered Fuji's name. After Jirou lost a match, he talked about it for weeks, making sure every person in Hyotei knew the skills of his new rival. He still wouldn't shut up about that gum-chewing kid from Rikkai. Well, all the more reason for he and Choutarou to get away from the area.

Sighing, he walked to where he said he'd meet Choutarou. As he did, he saw the Seigaku boy heading warily after Jirou, still marking in that notebook. Shishido shook his head; some people just didn't have the spine to play doubles.

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Jirou watched the two retreating Seigaku figures with an unusual, twisting sensation in his stomach. Generally, the volley specialist didn't believe in worrying or anxiety. If he started to feel nervous, a quick nap usually made him feel much better. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that Atobe-sama had just done something incredibly foolish: he had made a losing bet. And he appeared to be doing it intentionally in a very un-Atobe manner.

"Oy, Atobe?" he asked as soon as they were alone again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Atobe smirked, running a hand through his silvery hair. "Ore-sama knows exactly what he is doing."

"It's only..." Jirou hesitated. He was not in the habit of correcting Atobe-sama, but he needed to figure this out. After all, he had been elected witness to the wager and entrusted with Atobe-sama's copy of the document. He ought to be clear on what the real wager was. "Fuji-kun is very good, and he's going to be better if he's fighting for something ..."

"Ore-sama is sure of the outcome of this match. The decision is the correct one." He continued to smile knowingly, seeming to enjoy Jirou's frustration.

Well, two could play at that game. Jirou let out an exceptionally long yawn. He had many dull matches to sit through before Seigaku played Rikkai, plenty of time to determine what Fuji and Atobe were driving at. "Okay, okay. Can I sleep in your office till you're done tonight?"

Atobe let out an amused sigh. "I suppose." The two Hyotei boys headed back inside.

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"You are aware there is a 98 percent chance Atobe is plotting something behind your back?" Inui asked as the two exited Hyotei's impressive school gates.

"Of course." Fuji had not commented on the wager he made without consulting Inui. The data tennis player had been dragged into the office and asked to witness the agreement. The copy was tucked into the pocket of his regulars jersey.

"Do you know what he's going to do?"

"I know how to deal with Atobe."

Great. Question dodging. That boded success. "I don't suppose you could help me determine the odds that Tezuka will be blaming me for whatever happens?"

"Oh, I'll try to make sure they're low. Besides--" here the tensai's smile positively beamed, "-- Tezuka won't find out about any of this until I show up at his door."

With Atobe involved, Inui felt the odds for this were between five and seven percent. Still, he knew better than to inform Fuji of the probability. "You intend to lie to him?"

Fuji turned to Inui, eyes closed but still inquisitive. He glanced at the notebook Inui had subconsciously opened. "Not lying. I just see no reason to inform him of this matter until it concerns him more directly."

Interesting. The data ran exactly contrary to his conversation with Shishido. Did different rules apply to different situations? If so, which rules should he consider when discussing the Renji issue? He should run more figures on this before taking any action.

"Ne, Inui, can I see what you're writing down?" Fuji asked.

Inui snapped the notebook shut. "No."


	7. Chapter 7

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 7_

Tezuka received his first envelope not long after Seigaku had their match with Jyousei. It contained no letter, but was thick with photographs, each one featuring an elegantly scripted commentary on the back. Many of the photos contained action shots from the game: a picture of a passed out Momoshiro (_Accidental juice mix-up. Inui has been running laps), _a victorious golden pair (_Kawaii, ne? Oishi says his wrist is doing better), _and one boy who seemed to stop in the middle of his match to pose for the camera (_If only I'd been able to capture Kaidoh's expression during this shot). _Other pictures portrayed more everyday items: a seat at Kawamura's restaurant _(Saved for when you get back), _a photo of something bubbling, steaming, and violently blue that could only belong to Inui (_This one is somewhat potent), _and several shots of Fuji's cacti (_Michelle is doing very well, but Kenneth is late in blooming). _There were no shots of the photographer but Tezuka hung some of them around his room. Each photo was unique, striking, and filled Tezuka with a bittersweet homesickness. They were all so quintessentially Syusuke.

Syusuke ... He'd started using the name in his head, though not out loud. Over the phone was not the proper time to take a step like that. Besides, it would only encourage whatever scheme the tensai was up to.

And the tensai was scheming. Tezuka knew because he'd had several weeks of sleep uninterrupted by calls from Atobe asking about his arm and trying to bribe him into a rematch. Syusuke had done something to him, and he wouldn't tell Tezuka what. When asked in their phone conversations, Fuji only said that they had talked and the matter was resolved, but Tezuka could hear the smile in his voice. It was not a resolution smile.

For the moment, the buchou decided to let it be. Syusuke had sworn not to actually harm Atobe, and he trusted him not to break a promise. Tezuka sighed, pinning a photo of the empty clubhouse near his bed (_Keeping it tidy for you). _Scheming was a hazard when involved with Syusuke, and a small price to pay in the long run. He just hoped Atobe didn't fly out to complain to him when Fuji's plot was revealed.

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Kaidoh was upset about something. His eyes narrowed 12 percent more than usual when he looked at Inui, and his thoughts distracted him from his training, making it only 80 percent as effective as it could be. At the moment, the towel's arc was only 90 percent complete, barely good enough to get the ball into the doubles court, let alone singles. The second year remained silent as usual, but Inui knew he would have to face the matter soon enough. Kaidoh stewing on an issue exponentially affected his temper when the matter finally arose.

"Kaidoh, is something bothering you?" Inui asked.

The towel snapped through the air again. Inui hated bringing this up in the middle of Kaidoh's training. Their time at the river was the highlight of his week, and they couldn't go there more than every three to four days or their chances of catching cold rose 25 percent. Kaidoh's training sessions here were the most effective, and Inui ... well, Inui enjoyed the view.

After another pause, Kaidoh asked, "Did you plant that juice for Momoshiro?"

Inui blinked behind his glasses. He hadn't predicted that question. "During the Jyousei match? No. Momoshiro's inability to read was not a part of my analysis."

Kaidoh nodded, and continued his swing, but now the arc had decreased to 87 percent. Had the answer been wrong? Did Kaidoh not believe him? Kaidoh knew he would never throw a game over something as petty as jealousy. He'd worked with Momoshiro so Kaidoh could debut his Boomerang in the singles court, hadn't he? "Why do you ask?"

Another shower of water droplets. Inui realized their current location was not the most advantageous place for him to hold this conversation. "I heard him and Echizen talking about it. It doesn't matter."

"It was an accident." An amusing accident, but an accident nonetheless.

Kaidoh performed a few more repetitions, then asked, "And the match with Rokkaku. Will we be playing doubles again?" He didn't look at Inui while he spoke, but gazed down the river, his frame rather artistically silhouetted in the sunset. Inui's stomach twisted. Why did Kaidoh have to ask that now?

"Oishi decided Taka-san and Momoshiro should play doubles two. He wants them to learn to control some of their power. You will play singles two again, though there is only a 30 percent chance the match will last that long."

Kaidoh turned to look at Inui, though Inui couldn't see his face well against the backlighting. He seemed about to ask another question, but stopped himself, turning back to his training.

"That's enough repetitions for tonight. You should stretch before we walk home."

Kaidoh complied. He always did when Inui suggested training methods to him. Inui felt another surge of guilt in the knowledge that his kouhai had complete trust in him, but he still had yet to bring up the subject of his past or tell Kaidoh the real reason he had suggested Momoshiro and Taka-san could use the doubles training.

He joined Kaidoh in stretching, but neither spoke. Only after they both stood up did Kaidoh add, "Senpai, you shouldn't blame yourself for the match with Hyotei."

Inui adjusted his glasses. He had to remember not to underestimate Kaidoh's abilities of perception. "It was a lapse in data, Kaidoh. It is more beneficial for you to remain in singles until I can properly adjust my analysis to a doubles--"

"Inui-senpai," Kaidoh interrupted. The interruption itself deviated from Kaidoh's usual behavior. Inui looked down at Kaidoh, who had slung the wet towel around his shoulders. His eyes shuffled from the ground to the river to a tree, never actually resting on Inui. "The data is ... useful ...if it lets you know what's coming towards you, but you need to build your ... your instincts as well." Kaidoh's voice stumbled over the sounds, forcing them out like bursts of water through a dam. At the last word, those dark eyes finally locked on Inui, captivating even while they pierced through him.

Inui found himself stuttering. "I-instinct?"

"The ball went out because your instincts were not strong, even if the data was correct."

"Kaidoh, instinct is an unreliable way to strategize -- hey!" Inui's hand shot out for the notebook Kaidoh had without warning lunged for. He saved it, though just barely. "Kaidoh?"

The mamushi smiled. "You didn't predict that I would do that, did you?"  
Inui adjusted his glasses again, now a gesture of annoyance. "No."

"But you protected your data anyway. Instinct. You have it, Inui-senpai. We'll start your training tomorrow."

Inui frowned. "My training?"

"Hai, senpai. It's your turn. Buchou will be back by Nationals, and there will no longer be an empty singles position. I will need a good doubles partner." The sentence seemed to catch Kaidoh by surprise, and he blushed before turning towards his own house, calling, "Tomorrow."

Inui, himself, was still speechless. Kaidoh wasn't angry, wasn't even annoyed. None of the data had an answer for this outcome. In fact, Kaidoh seemed adamant that their neither of their partnerships end anytime soon. And why did Kaidoh seem upset that Inui hadn't intentionally planted the juice? Did he want Inui to feel jealous? The facts didn't add up. Was there some flaw in his analysis, or was Kaidoh right? Perhaps that instinct had been what he and Renji were missing ...

Inui stopped himself. There was still time before that mountain rose up before them. For now, he decided to focus his energy on Kaidoh, and whatever training menu the mamushi would devise.

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_A/N: So the updates might be coming a little slower as Buchou and Inui are rather obstinate about things like plot development and making subplots merge. Sigh. I'm a sad fangirl, but I wouldn't have it any other way._

_Thanks to all my reviewers. Microgirl, the cacti are just for you!_


	8. Chapter 8

A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 9

_A/N: Short one first, but I'll have the next chapter up pretty soon. This story has gotten much longer than I ever anticipated, and Fuji only just now told me what his real plan is, so I've had to go back and change some things. Such is the problem with writing a tensai, I guess. Another big thank you to my reviewers. It's such a nice motivation to keep going even when Kaidoh doesn't listen to a word I say and keeps switching his storyline around._

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The next photo essay Tezuka received held several images of a playground: Kikumaru swinging in a blurry circle around a high bar (_Too bad they don't build these over tennis courts, ne?)_, Inui and Kaidoh standing by a fence (_They've made up, I think...), _Echizen asleep next to a boy in a Rokkaku uniform (_Blackmail, _a winking happy face drawn next to it). A few more impressionist images had been inserted as well: A sakura tree on the school campus (_These petals seem to be falling all the time, have you noticed?), _some loose racquet strings that had fallen in an interesting web (_Pretty, ne?). _The final photo was of a scoreboard displaying Seigaku's victory over Rokkaku. The back read, _Rikkaidai is next. Pick out a nice place for your medal. _

_At least Syusuke is confident,_ Tezuka thought as he tacked the new artwork around his room. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why the tensai hadn't included any pictures of himself. He still hadn't elaborated on his conversation with Atobe, and Tezuka had a feeling that if he could just see Syusuke's eyes, he'd know the secret instantly.

Rikkaidai was miles ahead of Rokkaku in skill, and Fuji couldn't afford to waste his time with schemes. Now was the time for caution, and he hoped Syusuke understood that.

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"I'm calling the wager off," Fuji said casually.

Jirou permitted one eye to flutter open. Atobe and Jirou had been invited to meet Fuji and Inui in a ...quaint restaurant to discuss the bet. Until that moment, Jirou had been pretty sure Fuji had just been trying to get Atobe-sama in a place he'd be almost guaranteed to have something colorful, greasy, and staining spilled on his expensive wardrobe. Now, Atobe was doing a marvelous impression of a mounted sea bass. Still, he recovered quickly. "Ore-sama would like to remind you that under the contract, that counts as a forfeit. Ore-sama would win."

"The circumstances are beyond my control. According the roster, I'm no longer singles one. I won't be playing Sanada," Fuji shrugged, but the move lacked the tensai's usual grace.

"Tezuka will be back in time, then?" Atobe asked.

"No," Fuji almost growled the word. He clearly was almost as displeased with the wager's cancellation as Atobe, though also doing his best to hide the fact.

After a pause in which Fuji did not seem inclined to elaborate, Inui spoke up. "Echizen will be playing singles one."

Atobe coughed out some of the bottled water he had brought with him (restaurant tap water would not do). He should have known better than to take a drink just then. "The freshman? Were you planning on wrapping the championship medal in a bow and presenting it to Sanada personally?"

"The decision has already been made," Fuji snapped. "The wager is off."

"Then you are forfeiting, and ore-sama wins."

For all their perception and insight, the two of them could be pretty forgetful, Jirou thought. He yawned, "S'not off," from his position slumped next to a bottle of soy sauce. The other three looked at him in surprise.

"Ore-sama didn't hear you, Jirou."

"S'not off," Jirou slurred. "You never said it _had_ to be Fuji-kun who won." Legal talk was boring, and the table was uncomfortable. Atobe'd probably get self-conscious if Jirou borrowed his shoulder, though. He let out another yawn, struggling to keep his eyes half-open.

Fuji looked at Inui, eyes suddenly wide in alarm. The analyst reached into his jacket to remove his copy of the wager. He traced a finger along the words, mumbling them to himself as he did so. "Verbatim, the wager reads, 'If Seigaku defeats Rikkaidai in singles one.' No names are mentioned, so technically speaking, the bet can continue."

Fuji's eyes looked as if they could cut cleanly through a sheet of glass. "Are you saying," he began, voice not betraying his frustration, "that I have just placed a bet on Echizen?"

"Unless either of you wants to forfeit."

"No!" Atobe and Fuji both shouted, then glared at each other. Jirou couldn't help the small giggle that escaped, but neither of the rivals was paying him much attention.

"Then the wager continues. Echizen and Sanada are the contestants. May we leave now?" Inui sighed.

Atobe laughed, though it was a frustrated kind of laugh, Jirou realized. "Echizen..." the buchou managed to say, shaking his head, "If that child beats Sanada, ore-sama will pay for your whole damn team to show up on Tezuka's doorstep."

"It's your money," Fuji almost hissed. "Inui, let's go."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jirou saw Inui scratch something onto the paper. He wondered if anyone else noticed. The Seigaku boys left without ordering anything.

"This place is far too ... middle class, Jirou. We should leave."

Jirou dragged himself to follow Atobe back to the car. Safely within its soundproof walls, Jirou asked, "So that was bad?"

"Very bad."

"Even though you're going to win?"

"Very, very bad."

"Can it be fixed."

"With a miracle. How much does one of those cost?"

"Depends, I think," Jirou yawned, curling up next to Atobe who didn't seem to mind right now. "I can look into it..." He didn't get any further before he was completely asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 10

A/N: So this storyline draws more from the manga than the anime. I'm pulling from a genius where Fuji visits Tachibana just before Nationals to challenge him to a match. In said match, we learn that before Tachibana cut his hair and joined Fudomine, he used to have a tennis style similar to Kirihara's. We also learn Fuji knew him during this time period. Tachibana then plays Fuji and smashes his ball through a Higuma Otoshii. I was impressed ... and slightly weirded out by how close Fuji and Tachibana seem. I assume whatever happened between them was a long time ago and now they're friends. All that business with the grip tape started to make sense, and thus this chapter was born.

So yeah, explanation complete. Enjoy and review if you've got the time.

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None of the participants in the wager had expected Kirihara Akaya.

Rumors about the Rikkai second year had spread, of course, but largely people concerned with Rikkaidai were concerned about their ailing captain or the fearsome Sanada. Kirihara's skills had gone more or less under the radar of the junior high tennis world. Fuji had even met the second year once when he paid a surprise visit to the Seigaku campus. He vividly remembered the boy pestering Tezuka for a match before causing the accident that had kept the freshmen busy cleaning up balls until well after practice.

But even Inui had been unable to predict the events that occurred during Tachibana's match. That video tape had floored Fuji: the casual brutality of Kirihara, the valiant but vain defense of Tachibana. In a way, Fuji had felt almost proud of Fudomine's buchou; he hadn't fought back the way Fuji knew he could have. But no, he played honorably. Fuji wondered why every friend he ever had seemed to possess such a strong martyr complex.

A martyr complex which left Fuji standing outside the door to a hospital room...with flowers.

Maybe the flowers were too much, he thought. Still, he had gotten flowers for Taka-san when he was in the hospital, so he didn't see why he shouldn't get them for Tachibana. Besides, these were friendship flowers: pleasant, cheerful, and yellow. Tachibana would understand that ...and Tezuka didn't need to know he was here just yet. The two of them got along poorly enough as it was.

Fuji knocked and entered the room. Tachibana looked grim --not injured, just grim, his lips pressed together tight enough to squeeze coal into a diamond. He was holding a pro-tennis magazine, though it wasn't open. At Fuji's footfalls, he looked up, surprised. "Fuji?"

"Hi," Fuji said, fixing a pleasant smile in place. "Just thought I'd drop by to see how you were doing."

Tachibana glared down at his injured leg. "I've been better, but I'll be ready for Nationals."

"That's good. I'd like to play against your team again." Fuji set the flowers on the bedside table, next to a small stack of magazines and a roll of grip tape. Fuji couldn't help but chuckle at it. "Adjusting your grip while you're here?"

Tachibana rolled his eyes. "Kamio left that here. He fidgets when he comes to see me. Ends up forgetting a bunch of stuff. He brought me those magazines too. And ..." Tachibana paused to open the table's drawer, "a discman, three CD's, two sets of headphones, four tennis balls, and a pack of strawberry chewing gum." He closed the drawer with a sigh.

"I think it's cute," Fuji said, taking a seat. "He'd be good for you."

"Kamio?" Tachibana looked startled. "He's young."

"An entire year younger than you, yes."

"How's Tezuka?"

"Very clever way to change the subject."

"As long as it works."

Fuji looked away. "Tezuka's well. He'll be back for Nationals, too."

"How long is the line to play him, these days?"

"You could get in before you graduate high school."

Tachibana nodded knowingly. "That's about as I expected."

Fuji guessed now was as good a time as any to broach the subject he'd come to speak about. "Ne, Tachibana, about that match ..."

"Thought there was another reason for your visit. You wanna know about Kirihara?"

"To start, yes."

Tachibana took a deep breath. "I don't know what I can tell you. He's insane, but he's good. Really good."

"Could you have beaten him? If you used your ...old style." Careful. Tachibana hated talking about his old tennis style, and Fuji didn't need him to shut him out now. Fuji was one of few people who knew him in those days, and even if he had preferred Tachibana's old hair, he still didn't like bringing the time period up.

Tachibana took his time to answer. Finally, he said, "Possibly, but I can't be sure. He may be better than I was. He's certainly better than I am."

"That's not true," Fuji chided. "Rikkai is ... vicious. They don't care what they have to do to win."

"Are you going to play him?" The buchou's eyes searched Fuji, serious.

Fuji nodded.

Tachibana's face broke into a rare smile. "I wasn't sure you would. You don't have to."

"We're friends now. I look after my friends," _and you'd better appreciate that this may upset my entire plan._

"Be careful," Tachibana looked down at his leg as he said this. "He's more skilled than people give him credit for, and he has no sense of fair play to back it up. And he's only singles two."

"Echizen will have to face Sanada," Fuji added, only the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Echizen? Is that wise?"

"Tezuka thinks he can. I ... have my doubts."

"Sanada's around here a lot. Their captain is on the floor below mine, but I haven't really spoken to either of them yet." He looked down again, as if to add, "for obvious reasons."

"Yukimura-buchou is here?" Fuji asked. If he wanted information on Rikkai, he supposed that would be the place to go.

"I asked the nurses about him once. His surgery isn't for a few more weeks, but his team visits all the time. Sanada more than anyone."

_Interesting_. "Thank you, Tachibana. I suppose I should be heading home now." He started to stand.

"Fuji." Tachibana leaned over and snagged the roll of grip tape off the table. "Here, I won't be needing this for a while."

Fuji raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling. Tachibana did know him well. Not as well as Tezuka, but still well. He accepted the tape.

"Beat him, Syusuke, but be very careful." Tachibana warned. Fuji nodded, choosing to allow the use of his first name under the circumstances, and left the room.

So Yukimura-buchou was here. Fuji decided it wouldn't hurt to see where the boy was, maybe have a brief chat, as fellow tennis players. The tensai got into the elevator and hit the fifth floor button. As he left the confines, he saw two figures heading down the hall: a tall, stoic boy with a baseball cap pulled over his eyes pushing a thin, tired figure with blue-violet hair in a wheelchair. The two were walking straight towards the elevator.

Fuji turned quickly in the other direction, not willing to risk being recognized. It had been a long time since Seigaku had played Rikkaidai last, but both Sanada and Yukimura had eerily keen senses of perception. Fuji walked a few paces down, using his hair to cover his face and pretending to be waiting outside a closed door.

"You know, you don't have to come every day," Yukimura said as the two waited for the elevator to return. He craned his neck around to look up at Sanada, who didn't reply loudly enough for Fuji to hear. Rikkai's captain reached up one hand to cover Sanada's. "But ... I'm very glad you do."

Fuji's eyes focused in on Sanada's hand, which opened to take Yukimura's. Before the elevator returned, Sanada gently, almost imperceptibly, gave the hand a quick squeeze. And then the two were gone.

Fuji's smile returned. So, the emperor had a weakness after all. Now he'd just have to find a way to use it.

It was a shame, Fuji thought. No wonder Rikkaidai wanted to win so badly. No wonder Sanada was willing to let his players go to any and all lengths to defeat the competition. Fuji supposed if the roles were reversed, and it was Tezuka here about to undergo life-threatening surgery, he might do the same. They had a good reason to fight, and they truly wanted to win the championship.

So it was just too bad that Fuji wanted it more.


	10. Chapter 10

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 10_

_A/N: Kaidoh and Inui don't listen. They never listen. They were supposed to be a pacing device, not a major plotline. Oh well. Hope this doesn't cause anyone dental work._

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"Inui-senpai, you're still thinking too much," sighed the frustrated second-year. Though Inui had secured the use of the courts for as long as they needed them (Oishi only making the politest of snickers), they had been practicing twice a week since the Rokkaku game, and Inui still didn't understand what Kaidoh was trying to get him to do.

"Kaidoh, perhaps I should check my data. There may be a ..."

"You promised you would keep the notebook closed," Kaidoh answered sternly, holding in a hiss. Every session Inui-senpai mentioned the notebook Kaidoh had forbidden him from touching. How was he supposed to feel where the shots would land if he already knew? For all his efforts, Kaidoh knew he was being a poor teacher, and the thought forced guilt into his mind. Everything Inui-senpai had done for him, and he couldn't teach this basic trait that should come so naturally. But it was as if Inui-senpai had turned this part of his brain off somewhere along the line, deciding his instincts could not be trusted.

Of course, it didn't help that Inui-senpai had all of Kaidoh's data memorized, and thus didn't actually need the notebook to predict his shots. Ordinarily, this would have flattered Kaidoh; today, it was just irritating.

"I think your concept of instinct is too narrow," Inui continued, "I can already tell most of your shots, Kaidoh. Isn't that the same as instinct?"

"No, Inui-senpai. There's a big difference between knowing where the shots will land, and feeling them. That's why you can only hit most of my shots."

"The ones I miss can be corrected with some weight training on my quadriceps--"

"Fshuuuuu." Kaidoh couldn't help it. He knew it would wound Inui-senpai a bit, but it was either hiss or he was going to completely lose it. Maybe if Inui-senpai played with his eyes closed ...

Kaidoh considered the thought. "Senpai, can you see without your glasses?"  
Inui raised an eyebrow. "Not very well. Solid objects blur and my depth perception decreases by 45 percent. Why?"

Kaidoh stepped over the net, reaching his hands up towards his senpai's face.

Inui stepped back. "Kaidoh, what are you--"

"Just trust me, senpai." That word had some effect on the analyst. Inui froze, but allowed Kaidoh to gently remove the glasses most people believed were surgically attached. He couldn't help but step back a pace as he did so, his breath catching. Kaidoh had always found Inui attractive, though not in the same way he knew people found Tezuka-buchou or Fuji-senpai attractive. Inui-senpai had a dignity, a presence to his character that Kaidoh had always been drawn too. Without his glasses, though, Inui-senpai had the same presence and an astonishing handsomeness to his features as well. Kaidoh fervently hoped Inui's vision was poor enough that he couldn't see the brilliant flush storming over Kaidoh's face.

The only cognizant thought he managed was: _They're green. I never thought they'd be green._

"Is something wrong?" Inui-senpai asked. He sounded ...nervous. Kaidoh wondered how many people had seen him without the glasses, and then instantly decided no one else should.

"No, senpai. Just play against me now. Your data isn't based on your eyesight now, is it? You'll have to play instinctively." Kaidoh reverently set the glasses down on Inui-senpai's jersey, out of the way of the court.

Inui-senpai smiled, almost impressed. Kaidoh felt a surge of pride and another embarrassing blush. Serve. It was time to serve.

Training with Inui-senpai had made Kaidoh very aware of his own habits. He knew, for instance, that he liked to serve with ten percent more power than necessary on the first game. He held back this time, sending only a very weak serve. Inui-senpai caught it, but seemed to be expecting more resistance. The return landed well out. Kaidoh called it.

Inui frowned, probably because he was unable to see the exact distance out and use it to calculate his next move. This might actually work. "Don't try to over-analyze it, senpai. You know my style well enough, just return it."

Kaidoh served again, a more natural serve this time. The two began a volley series. Inui-senpai's movements, however, seemed more halted than usual. His steps lacked fluidity, and his swings jerked through the air. If anything, he seemed less natural than ever before. Kaidoh won the first game easily.

"I'm not sure this is working Kaidoh. It fails to simulate any relevant scenario I may face --"

"You can't have your glasses back," Kaidoh ordered. Besides, he didn't feel like covering up Inui-senpai's eyes just yet. Inui had convinced him to practice shirtless in a river three times a week; he deserved one match without Inui's glasses.

The second game, Inui-senpai did reasonably well returning the regular volleys, but if Kaidoh threw in a snake, his distance was far from the mark. Kaidoh still took the set 60-15.

The third round, Inui-senpai hit half the snakes back, though one was out.

The fourth, he returned a Boomerang into the singles court.

He won the fifth set 60-40.

Kaidoh felt an absurd pride in himself and his senpai. Inui-senpai certainly wasn't the cold tactician everyone made him out to be. He understood tennis. Really understood it in ways Kaidoh knew he had barely begun to grasp. When he mastered his instincts as well, even Tezuka-buchou would have difficulty defeating him. "That's enough for today, senpai. It's getting late."

"Ah." Inui-senpai rushed to return his glasses back on his face, much to Kaidoh's disappointment. Maybe he should tell Inui-senpai he looked handsome without his glasses, but he was afraid of coming off like those girls who told him he looked "cute" without his bandanna. Kaidoh mentally hissed just thinking about them.

Glasses secure, the analyst relaxed. "I think I'm beginning to grasp what you're referring too. It's quite ... different."

Kaidoh nodded. "If we practice enough before the finals, you could master the technique."

At the word "finals," Inui-senpai froze midway into zipping his tennis bag. "Anou, Kaidoh. About the match with Rikkaidai..."

Damn it, not again. Ever since Hyotei, Inui-senpai lost his nerve whenever the idea of playing doubles came up. "You don't want to play with me."

"It's not that," Inui said hurriedly, standing. "But, I'm needed in singles. I have the best chance of defeating their singles three player. None of the other players know him well enough --"

"He's the one from the photo?" Kaidoh frowned. He'd seen the photo when he'd been in Inui-senpai's room. A smaller, more cheerful Inui holding the handle of a trophy with a rather odd-looking boy whose eyes were closed. Kaidoh had asked about him, but Inui-senpai merely said it was his old doubles partner. Kaidoh had been curious enough to ask Fuji-senpai who had told him a little more about the end of that doubles team and Yanagi Renji's position at Rikkaidai, but even the tensai lacked the specific details that caused Kaidoh so much worry. The subject made Inui-senpai very uncomfortable, so Kaidoh had avoided it until now. However, if that was the problem, he had a right to know.

Inui-senpai looked somewhat shocked. "Y-yes it is, but it's not like..."

"Fshuuu."

"Kaidoh--"

"Inui-senpai, you can play against whoever you want," Kaidoh said, fighting to keep his voice brusque and detached. All their training. All their work together. This breakthrough tonight, and Inui-senpai was still going to abandon it to play with his ex. Kaidoh was not about to stand around waiting for Inui-senpai to make up his mind, no matter what. "I can play with Momoshiro again, if I have to..."

"Kaidoh, I need to play against Renji. I can't explain why right now, not even to myself. It's ...it's not something I can analyze. It's ..."

"Instinct," Kaidoh finished. He turned to collect his own things, deciding it wiser to not allow Inui-senpai to analyze his face at the moment.

"Maybe." The word sounded so unfamiliar from Inui's mouth. Inui believed in facts and statistics, not maybes. "I know I need to finish things with him, Kaidoh, and I know my chances of success would decrease dramatically if I did so ...without you."

_What?_ Kaidoh turned to his senpai, unsure if he had heard that last sentence correctly. The syntax alone felt confusing. He risked turning his head.

"Kaidoh, will you continue to teach me, at least until after the finals?"

Kaidoh considered. Part of him wanted to storm off, insulted. But a different part of him sparked at the challenge. This was a fight, a chance if nothing else. And when their training was over and Inui-senpai had obliterated his childhood crush, Kaidoh could replace that photo on Inui-senpai's desk. He thought a shot of the two of them holding the Nationals trophy would do nicely.

As plans buzzed through the mamushi's brain, he realized Inui-senpai was still waiting for his answer. "Hai, senpai. I can do that."


	11. Chapter 11

_A Gentelemen's Wager, Chapter 11_

_A/N: I'm not an Echizen person, so everyone knows. Sorry, ochibi, but I will take every chance I get to mess with you. This includes throwing a drama queen tensai at you._

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"Ne, Echizen. Would you warm up with me?"

The hell? In Ryoma's entire time at Seigaku, Fuji-senpai had never, ever, even once asked him to warm-up with him. Since Buchou had been gone, Fuji-senpai warmed up with Kikumaru-senpai or Kawamura-senpai. Not him. Fuji-senpai avoided speaking to Ryoma at all if possible. So that meant either Fuji-senpai wanted something or Ryoma had done something to upset him. With Buchou gone, Echizen didn't see how he could have upset him, but still ...

"I'm warming up with Momo-senpai today," Echizen answered, tugging his hat down.

"Actually, I think Momo and Taka-san are doing some further doubles training today, so we're both out our usual partners. Come join me?"

Echizen did not want to join Fuji-senpai anywhere, especially not somewhere without witnesses and especially not when Fuji-senpai was smiling at him like that. But he didn't seem to have much of a choice. He grabbed his racquet out of its bag, feeling a little better with the object in his hand, and followed Fuji to one of the far courts. Several sets of eyes followed them as the rest of Seigaku's tennis team wondered what the two could possibly have to discuss.

"Why don't you take the first serve," Fuji offered.

"Fine." Echizen served normally as they were just warming up. Besides, Fuji-senpai offering a serve meant he wanted a Twist Serve, so Echizen wouldn't do it.

The tensai seemed to sense the freshman's resistance, and volleyed the ball back lightly. The game continued, neither side taking the offense. And then, Fuji-senpai started talking.

"Are you nervous about the finals?" Topspin.

"No," Echizen sliced it back.

"Have you ever seen Sanada play before?" Volley.

"I saw the tape." Return.

"Saa, Sanada was good," Lob. "But he was playing doubles on the tape. I'm afraid it hardly does his true skills justice."

The lob was a dare. The warm-up had obviously ended if Fuji was setting up counters like that. Echizen decided to test the theory, smashing the ball back.

The elegantly executed Higuma Otoshii confirmed the freshman's suspicions.

Fuji rose, turning back toward Echizen and removing another ball from his pocket. "So, do you have any new tricks for him?" Serve. "One of their players is as efficient a data gatherer as Inui, so you can trust he already knows your current skills." Slice. "I suggest you bring him a surprise ... or four if you can manage." Backhand.

Echizen scowled as he returned the ball. "Tennis isn't about gimmicks--" _crap_.

Fuji-senpai's hand was already in the air. Echizen dove to save the Tsubame Gaeshii he knew was coming, but was too far back to catch it before it hit the ground, skidding against the court. Some warm up.

"Indeed," Fuji smiled as Echizen sullenly fished another ball from his pocket. "And Sanada is not one to employ them. But at your current level, the best you can hope is that he is too amused by your Drive B pose to respond to it. I suppose it could win you a point."

So not every move could look like a Tsubame Gaeshii. Personally, Echizen thought Fuji-senpai paid a little too much attention to how his hair looked during his moves and not enough to the actual tennis. Drive B worked just fine, and if Fuji-senpai hit him a drop, he would gladly demonstrate. He switched the racquet to his right hand, preparing for --

"And he already knows every facet of your serves. May I offer you some advice?"

Echizen huffed, lowering his racquet. Whatever advice Fuji-senpai wanted to give him was most likely a trap to embarrass him and make him lose face with Buchou. "Why?"

"Because I'm your senpai, and I want to win these finals. Finals that will probably come down to you." Fuji approached the net. Echizen did not. "Doubles is going to be difficult. Momo and Kaidoh have great potential individually, but no coordination as a team. Oishi, no matter what he says, is injured, and a long match will wear him down. And Inui won't tell me the odds regarding his own match, which is never a good sign."

"What about your match, Fuji-senpai?" Echizen frowned.

Fuji's smile curved into a smirk. "I didn't give up the chance to play Sanada to lose. But there's always a danger, and I cannot deny Kirihara's unpredictability. Still, I doubt he can beat me. And then I will be passing the game to you." Eyes opened. Ryoma didn't realize eyes could look jagged, but Fuji-senpai's were. Standing under that glare too long felt like having a serrated knife dragged against his skin. "You need to win."

Ryoma had never seen Fuji-senpai this concerned about winning a game before. Wins and losses, Fuji had always remained complacent and easy-going about them in the past. Maybe Tezuka's absence was starting to take its toll. _Why do I have to be in the way of this drama?_ Echizen mentally sighed. "I _will_ win."

"Not if you're this easily distracted," Fuji continued. "Sanada will goad you. He will insult your pride. He will insult the team. He may even insult Tezuka. Do not let it distract you." Fuji's intonation suggested that if the last distracted Echizen, there would be an added penalty to simply losing the match. "If you try to match him with power or ...gimmicks alone, you will lose."

Fuji-senpai was talking like he was in a movie again. Ryoma was getting really sick of melodrama, but he knew the quicker he finished Fuji-senpai's script, the quicker he could get back to practice with nice, sane teammates. "What do I do instead?"

Another smirk. Fuji crossed over to the side of the courts, sipping from a water bottle before answering. Echizen rolled his eyes and moved to grab his own things, waiting for Fuji-senpai to decide his dramatic pause had been held a suitable length. Finally, the tensai answered, "You will play his own game back at him. Do it with respect and with class, but you can distract him as easily as he can you, if you time it right."

Now Ryoma was annoyed at himself for being intrigued. Stupid drama. "Time what?"

"Have you heard of Yukimura Seichii?"

"The captain?"

"Yes. He's in the hospital right now, scheduled to undergo surgery a week after the finals. His illness is something of a sensitive subject with the team, particularly Sanada." Fuji raised himself back up, looking down on Echizen with eyes still open. "Don't offend him, but mention that name if you feel you're in trouble. If his mind isn't on the tennis, you could steal an entire game."

Ryoma was still somewhat concerned with why Fuji-senpai was offering him advice at all. Best at least to agree while the tensai was here. The freshman nodded.

Fuji looked skeptical and spared him one more serrated glance before saying, "Good luck, Echizen." The tensai then wandered off to where Inui-senpai had been watching them for most of their impromptu match.

"Geez, Echizen, what'd you do?" asked a familiarly loud voice from the door to the courts.

Ryoma tugged on his cap out of habit. "I don't know. Weren't you training with Kawamura-senpai again?"

Momo-senpai blinked quizzically. "Taka-san? I wasn't planning on it. Did he ask or something?"

Ryoma sighed. He was going to be very happy when Buchou was back and Fuji-senpai stopped acting like a crazy person. Honestly, it was just tennis. "Let's just go practice, Momo-senpai."

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"I feel I should warn you there is a 48 percent chance that simply hearing Echizen say Yukimura's name will cause Sanada to berserk."

"Any better suggestions?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then it's a risk I'm willing to take."


	12. Chapter 12

The day of the finals match dawned grey and cold.

Fuji Syusuke arrived at the courts in a foul temper. Echizen hadn't listened to a word he'd said, largely because it was Fuji who said it. Now, the freshman was about to be pummeled by Sanada. His only chance was that Seigaku swept up in doubles and never got to singles one. The tensai did at least hope they made it to singles two; he could really use some righteous fury about now.

Echizen Ryoma was avoiding Fuji-senpai, who appeared in a foul temper. He took his Ponta to a quiet corner behind Oishi-senpai where he hoped he could prepare for his match in relative safety. What was to prepare anyway? It was just tennis.

Inui Sadaharu found he could hardly keep his eyes open. He'd stayed up half the night studying his old notes on Renji, postponing a training match with Kaidoh to do so. He knew the action was detrimental to both his health and his personal life, but he hadn't been able to help it. Surely, the answer to his current anxiety was buried in an old notebook or backed up on a floppy disk. There had to be a solution; he just couldn't find it.

Kaidoh Kaoru hissed to himself away from the rest of Seigaku. He was not speaking to Inui-senpai who had canceled the last two training matches he'd previously begged Kaidoh to hold. Kaidoh would continue not speaking to Inui-senpai until the analyst ceased his obsession with childhood doubles partners.

Atobe Keigo deigned not to attend the Seigaku vs. Rikkaidai match. In the first place, he had a manicure at eleven. In the second place, he was not anxious to witness the failure of what should have been the shining moment in his plan's execution. No amount of money could buy Sanada's cooperation, and he was going to be even more in Fuji's bad graces than before. He made a mental note to look into tightening security.

Akutagawa Jirou slept in. Of those affected by the wager, he was the only one who enjoyed napping while listening to the pleasant broadcaster on the late night weather channel and thus the only one prepared for the freak miniature monsoon that dropped on Tokyo about an hour before the match began.

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Tezuka was hesitant to call Fuji that afternoon for several reasons. To begin with, his roaming charges to call from Germany were insane. Secondly, it was late in Japan, and with the Rikkai matches tomorrow, Fuji should be asleep. But primarily, Tezuka hadn't received a photo series in several weeks, which meant Fuji thought he could hide something. Tezuka also knew Seigaku had played Hyotei during the training camp-- a set up for tensai plots if there ever had been one. He'd considered asking Atobe when he spoke to him about Echizen's match, but that would likely lead to further snide innuendoes, and frankly, Atobe had been acting weird enough.

True, Tezuka had his doubts about sending Echizen in singles one, but it was the only way he could think of to make the freshman stretch his skills. Sanada would push him much further than Tezuka could with an injured arm. To win, Echizen's very style would have to evolve, and that would benefit everyone. If he lost, Seigaku would still go to Nationals, and Echizen would realize he wasn't yet the greatest tennis star in the world. Echizen really ought to learn that.

He expected Atobe to make a similar comment about Seigaku's newest prodigy, but Atobe seemed almost pleased with the draw their match had ended in. He went so far as to surreptitiously compliment Echizen's improvements since their last game, though still maintaining he would have won in a tie break. The conversation was dropped there as Tezuka and Atobe did not discuss tie breaks.

Then Atobe made a cryptic comment about sending Tezuka a gift to help him recover faster and hung up. He didn't mention Fuji trying to kill him or even that Fuji had played at all. Something was amiss, and as buchou he had a right to know what. He dialed the number.

"Tezuka," Syusuke answered. At the happiness in that bright voice, Tezuka momentarily forgot exactly how much listening to it cost. "This is a surprise. How are you?"

"Improving." It was Tezuka's standard answer to this question as it masked exactly how slow said improvements were. His physician told him his arm was improving at a stable rate, but he should be able to do better than stable. "Is it too late to call?"

"It's eight-o-clock here, Tezuka."

"The Rikkai match was rescheduled for tomorrow. You should be resting."

"Then you shouldn't be calling, but I'll forgive you this time," Fuji said, his satisfied smile carrying naturally across the continents. "What's so urgent that you'd take such a risk?"

"You played Hyotei yesterday."

"Saa, of course. Tezuka, I barely spoke to Atobe. He did make some comment about us being saved by the rain, but we were both very busy with our own matches. Plus he had to deal with Kaidoh giving one of his players a concussion."

"What?"

"Mn. He and Inui have been in a bit of a fight. I think the Rikkai match is stressing them out. It's really no good for anyone who has to associate with them. You ought to speak to Inui about his doubles game."

"No."

"But he listens to you, and he doesn't trust me. Besides, it would be for the good of the team."

Tezuka sighed inwardly. Fuji wanted it, which meant he would pester Tezuka about it until the buchou gave in. He did not want to discuss relationships with Inui. He barely discussed them with Fuji, so it was better just to change the subject as fast as possible. "We'll see. Anything else I should be aware of?"

Fuji thought for a moment. "Oishi's wrist is still a little sprained, but he's insisting on playing doubles one anyway. Eiji's worried about him but doesn't want Oishi to worry because Eiji's worried, etcetera, etcetera. I'm working on that as much as I can. Momoshiro's catching up in accuracy, though he really ought to stop naming his own moves. Oh, and Yamato-buchou says hello."

"Just hello?"

"Actually, his exact words were 'tell him hi and twenty laps for shirking his duties as captain by fleeing the country.'"

"Ah." That sounded more like his old captain.

"Are you going to run them?" Syusuke sounded incredibly amused at the idea.

"Probably," Tezuka shrugged. After a year under Yamato's leadership, it was habit. "And Echizen's match?"

A moment of silence before Syusuke answered. Echizen had long been something of a sore subject between Seigaku's two strongest players. Fuji understood Tezuka needed to secure Seigaku's future success, but that didn't make him much happier about how much of Tezuka's time the process took. "Atobe didn't play him as hard as he played you, but Echizen did all right. He has a new trick that makes him look something like a very angry flying squirrel."

"He's young. He'll learn." Aesthetic tennis took more time to master... well, for everyone but Fuji. Tezuka had always appreciated the tensai's attention to keeping the game elegant.

Fuji sighed. "It can distract the opponent, I suppose."

"As long as he wins. Is he going to win?"

"Perhaps." Fuji contemplated the idea. "The match's date moving was somewhat fortuitous."

Tezuka frowned. "Why?"  
"Secret. I'll tell you when we win."

"Now it's _when_ we win."

"The assemble training worked very well. If we can forgo further injuries, we stand a chance at avoiding Sanada altogether."  
"Speaking of which, be very careful playing Kirihara."

Tezuka could see Syusuke tilting his head like a child warned to look both ways before crossing an empty country road. "Hai, Buchou."

"I'm serious." He would be very displeased if Fuji was injured seeking vengeance for Tachibana of all people.

"As am I. I'll be fine, but I should probably let you off the phone. At this rate you could fly home for the same cost as your bill, and you still have to call Inui."

"Fuji, Inui can deal with his own problems," Tezuka grumbled, rubbing his eyes. This bend in the conversation was starting to give him a headache.

"And while he does, Kaidoh will continue to cause severe head trauma to anyone in a hundred foot radius of a Boomerang Snake. And Seigaku is out a doubles two."

Fuji was right about that, anyway. When he'd accepted his job as captain, he hadn't realized that meant mediating through his team's melodrama as well. Couldn't anybody just play tennis? "I will tell him to get his game in order."

"Thank you. Hopefully that will suffice." He could feel Syusuke's victorious smirk through the phone. It would have been annoying if it was anyone but Fuji. As is, Tezuka had grown moderately accustomed to that particular smile. He'd need to figure out Fuji's game with Atobe soon to counter the tensai's win on this matter. Syusuke continued. "And I put the pictures from training in the mail this morning if you wanted a more thorough recap."

Tezuka spent another few seconds (probably costing at least 500 yen), debating whether or not to ask his next question. He wouldn't have another chance to do so for awhile though. "Are there any pictures from your match?"

He could feel Syusuke beaming across the line. "No. Why? Did you forget what I look like?"

"I believe you know perfectly well that's not true."

"Then you shouldn't need one yet."

So Fuji wanted him to embarrass himself by asking for a photo. No. He was done with tensai manipulations for the day.

"Don't worry; I have a nice surprise planned," Fuji added.

"Those concepts do not work in combination."

Fuji responded with another unnervingly knowing chuckle. "Hurry back, Tezuka."

"Ah. Be careful in the match."'

"I will. Ja." Fuji hung up.

Well that had been an exceptionally long and expensive conversation to learn nothing about Fuji's plans. Still, Atobe had been well enough to speak on the phone, Echizen was continuing to improve, and one concussion during assemble training wasn't the worst injury sustained in a Seigaku practice session. He would have to speak with Inui about his doubles partner, though. This was going to redefine the meaning of awkward.

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"Oy, Atobe? Why do we have to practice here?" Shishido groaned not for the first time that day. Jirou did agree that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the Hyotei courts, which had nicer showers and didn't require a bus ride to get to. The public arena they were playing at today, while the scene of most junior high tourneys, did lack many of the academy's amenities. However, he wasn't dumb enough to whine about it in front of the captain.

"Ore-sama has explained himself enough," Atobe answered. "If you dislike the courts so much, why don't you observe the grounds. Say fifteen laps?"

Shishido rolled his eyes, still grumbling as he started off on his laps.

"Ohtori."

"Hai, Buchou!" the second year snapped up to attention.

"Your backhand is sloppy. Fifteen laps," Atobe ordered.

"H-hai, Buchou." Ohtori tore after his doubles partner.

Meanwhile, Atobe relaxed onto the bench next to Jirou to observe the rest of the team at practice. "Will that shut him up for a while?" he asked. Atobe always knew when Jirou was really asleep and when he was just dozing and observing the world around him.

Jirou yawned. "For a while. Don't expect them to come back too soon, though."

Atobe rolled his eyes.

"Why are we really here?"

"Ore-sama told you. If Kanto hosts, this is where Nationals will be held. And Kanto _will_ be hosting. We ought to be familiar with the courts."

Jirou stretched, rolling on the bench so no one else could see him talk. It also allowed him to use his backpack to support the bruise on his head. Man, that match with Kaidoh-kun had been sugoi. "And the fact that we're not in Nationals ..."

"We're getting back in, Jirou. Do not doubt ore-sama's power."

_Or his parents' bank account,_ Jirou added mentally. "But why are we practicing here _today. _Weren't the regional finals supposed to be here?"

"Today was the most convenient for ore-sama," Atobe smirked, tossing his hair for effect. "The tournament can be held just as easily tomorrow."

Jirou shifted again to be able to watch Atobe's eyes. "So the bet's gonna be tomorrow too."

"Yes."

"And you're going to win?"

"Of course."

"And Fuji-kun will stop being mad at you?"

"He better."

"And this has to do with moving our practice here because ..."

"Jirou, ore-sama cannot give away all the surprises yet. Just watch the show."

Jirou had one very strong suspicion as to what the reason for the move was, and it had nothing to do with Hyotei's inevitable return to the National stage. Still, Atobe wanted the effect of surprising everyone, so he decided to leave the issue until tomorrow. Instead, he tried to say "hai," but the word became lost in an expansive yawn. He stretched out more, using the move as an excuse to inch closer to Atobe. The buchou let one hand trail absently through Jirou's curls. Tennis practice was nice when Atobe was in a good enough mood to let Jirou sleep through it.

The last thing the volley specialist heard before drifting off was Atobe shout, "Shishido, Ohtori, that lap took twice as long as it should have. Your next one had best be faster or ore-sama will be adding more."

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_A/N: Wow. Long one today. You know, getting Tezuka to talk is a real pain. I don't know how Fuji deals with him. Really big thanks to Whisper and Microgirl for talking me through that scene until Buchou sounded like Buchou. And another cookie to all my reviewers. I'm glad people are enjoying!_


	13. Chapter 13

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 13_

_A/N:_ _Let's take the two least emotive characters on the show and make them have a conversation about relationships. Tensai, I told myself. Absolutely tensai. On its third revision, I didn't feel so tensai. Hope I didn't butcher either of them too badly._

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Inui stared at his cell phone in disbelief as he took his seat on the bus. Tezuka was calling him? He and Tezuka were friends sure, but not close enough friends to pay the charges to telephone across the world. If Tezuka had something to tell the team, he normally just texted Oishi. Also, it was after midnight in Germany. The odds of this situation occurring were lower than ten percent.

Hesitantly, Inui answered the phone.

"You're playing singles against Rikkai," Tezuka stated. The buchou was nothing if not direct.

"Yes."

"Inui, three months ago you told me about the importance of Seigaku finding a doubles two team. You stated you were devoting yourself to crafting this doubles pair. You started doing additional training after practice. You worked out separate menus for yourself and Kaidoh. You created an entire notebook on Oishi and Kikumaru's various devices. So why, with all that work, are you playing singles?"

"According to the data, I am the only player with the chance to beat their singles three. Fuji and Echizen are already in --"

"Momoshiro and Kawamura are both capable of handling singles three. You were supposed to secure doubles two. Why aren't you doing so?"

"Tezuka, neither Momoshiro nor Taka-san have the analytic skill to deal with Renji's--"

"Yanagi Renji?"

_Damn. So, Tezuka knew about that. _"Well ...yes, but that fact has --"

"Inui." Tezuka usually only used that voice when he was about to assign a lot of laps. "You need to determine your priorities immediately. I have no problem if you want to play singles again, though I agree that Seigaku does need a stronger doubles two. However, you must decide and inform Kaidoh now. Your indecision is preventing the team's advancement."

Inui straightened in his seat. Easy enough for Tezuka to say with two continents between him and Fuji. "I have every intention of resuming the doubles training once the Rikkai game is over. This is a strategic move and nothing more."

"And Kaidoh agrees with this strategy?"

"Kaidoh ...accepts it."

A stern silence stretched across the line as Tezuka waited for Inui to confess.

"Kaidoh understands that I have to defeat Renji," Inui tried.

Still silence.

"He's willing to do what is necessary to help the team succeed."

Yet further silence.

"Well, what do you suggest I do?" Inui finally sighed.

"I suggest you get your personal life in order. Your doubles partner is going to cause no end of headaches -- and I mean that literally -- until you do."

"Oh? And what are you doing about the headache's Fuji--" _Damn it. _Talking about Kaidoh and Renji made him far too flustered.

"What?"

_Cover quickly. _"Just that, you understand my situation. What would you do if it were Fuji ... over-reacting."

"What's Fuji done?"

"As a hypothetical--"

"You're involved in his scheme, aren't you?"

"We're not talking about Fuji."

"You brought him up. Tell me."

He needed to redirect Tezuka's attention in the next exchange or he'd be forced to reveal everything he knew. "Answer my question first."

Tezuka sighed. This time, the silence was a contemplative one. "Inui, I am going to tell you something because I consider you a friend and trust you to keep this in confidence."

Inui's eyebrows raised over his glasses.

"That means close the notebook, Inui."

"Of course." Somewhat disappointed, Inui shut the book that had fluttered open.

"Put it away."

"Hai." Inui shoved it in his backpack. "Okay."

Tezuka geared himself up again. This was bound to be good data. Inui's fingers itched, even while his conscience forced them to hold still. "Honestly, I haven't had time to give you an answer to that. Fuji and I did not actually become..." here the buchou took a breath to prepare himself for the next word "..._involved_ until three days before I left."

It was probably a good thing Inui wasn't holding the notebook anymore. He might have dropped it on the bus's rather unsanitary floor.

"But my data on Fuji stated --"

"Fuji tried. He made many people believe we were, but I ignored him until I knew I was leaving."

"Why?" Inui had always thought the two were one of the more logical couples at Seigaku: the two strongest tennis players, polar personalities that seemed to support one another. It all worked out so well on paper.

"_You_ need me to break this down? Fuji is cunning, manipulative, my friend, teammate, rival, and also a guy ... which may still get me disowned. It was too great a risk."

"So why take it?" Inui gripped the cushion of his seat to keep from shredding the canvas on his backpack to get at the notebook.

Another heavy silence. "It was no longer a choice. And I was leaving, which I thought meant I could postpone the headaches until I returned. I was apparently incorrect."

"Would you call your feelings for Fuji ... instinctive?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Inui pushed up his glasses. Even without the notebook, he slipped easily into data-gathering mode. "Do you regret your decision?"

Tezuka took a moment to consider the idea, then said, "No." The word was solid. No explanation, but no argument either. Just once, Inui wished he could make his own emotions sound that certain. He could have certainty in numbers, in statistics, in tennis ... why not in something as intrinsic as human sentiment? Tezuka continued. "So you know. Now tell me what sort of scheme Fuji is plotting against Atobe."

"I'm on a bus right now, Tezuka. The reception is getting rather poor ..."

"Inui, you know better than anyone how Fuji gets when he's feeling righteous. Tell me before someone gets hurt."

"I don't know much, honestly. He is doing something, but he's very secretive about the details. I believe I have less than fifteen percent of the actual scheme."

"Then tell me the fifteen percent."

Tezuka would never let this drop. Inui tried to determine the amount of information he could part with without incurring either Fuji or Tezuka's wrath. "He and Atobe are playing some sort of game with each other. I can't tell you any more, Tezuka, please understand. I honestly don't know what either of their desired outcomes is."

"Atobe is encouraging this?"

"So it would appear."

Tezuka heaved another sigh. "This is what I meant by headaches. Inform me if I need to put a stop to it."  
"Of course."

"And make a decision about Kaidoh. Putting it off is an ineffective solution."

"Ah. My bus is coming to the stop. I'll speak to him before the tournament. Ja."

Tezuka hung up just as the bus screeched to a halt. Inui steeled himself as he walked the block from the stop to the tennis courts. Tezuka was right. He was being indecisive. He could decide which direction to return a smash in a match point within a sixteenth of a second. He'd had plenty of time to decide about his doubles game and his relationship with Kaidoh. He knew the answer anyway. All that remained was to make Kaidoh aware of it, and then beat Renji into the ground. It should be simple.

At least it would be simple if Kaidoh was not mysteriously absent from the registration booth.


	14. Chapter 14

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 14_

_A/N: Jirou is very fun to write. I get the feeling he's so much more manipulative than anyone suspects. It's also fun to write anything making fun of Oshitari. Sorry, Yuushi fans. I'm a Fuji girl, so I can't respect anyone who steals tensai counters. Anyway, I'm more or less done with this fic. A couple more chapters that I'm tweaking and a very sugary epilogue, but otherwise I'm almost done! Yay me!_

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Fuji rarely warmed up against a wall. Walls were silent, unyielding, and always returned the shot, no matter where you hit it. They reminded him of Tezuka, which just made him feel more frustrated. Today, however, he had no desire to put on yet another false smile for his friends, and he badly needed the quiet. Methodically, he returned the ball until the pace reached a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm.

Today had begun as a disaster. True, Fuji's plans would have been ruined by Seigaku sweeping a victory in doubles, but Rikkaidai sweeping was monumentally worse. All his hope now rested on Inui, who was currently in no mental state to play ping pong let alone a championship tennis match. Kaidoh and Momo _had_ to show up together looking as if they'd just been dragged through a river (which Momo insisted they had though Kaidoh refused to confirm the story). When Fuji had left to warm up, Inui had been fervently studying his data on Yanagi Renji while avoiding Kaidoh.

While Fuji didn't usually analyze situations in statistics, he knew poor odds when he saw them. If something dramatic didn't happen soon, Fuji would need a plan B. Inui losing meant he would not only be unable to teach Kirihara the lesson he so richly deserved, but the bet would be completely dissolved. For months, all Fuji had thought of was the look on Atobe's face when he shoved the plane tickets right back into that professionally manicured hand. He hoped it would be one of unadulterated fear, preferably laced with dread.

Not that the chance to get to Germany wasn't tempting, but Fuji knew there were other ways. If Inui lost this match, he might borrow one of his notebooks and sell a copy to Son Rodolfo. But Atobe's funding wouldn't do. Atobe needed to know exactly the degree to which he had offended the tensai and that there was no way in hell he'd be buying his safety.

Tezuka had demanded Atobe go unharmed. Fuji reasoned that a few decades of chronic paranoia was not technically 'harm.'

And he'd be starting from scratch again if Inui didn't get his act together. At this rate Tezuka would be back before he found another suitable loophole in the buchou's anti-vengeance policy.

"Oy, Fuji-kun!" Fuji turned, catching the ball in his hand. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the bouncing orange mop of hair heading towards him. Jirou stopped a safe distance from the practice area, though he couldn't seem to hold still for more than an eighth of a second. He hopped from his left foot to his right as he spoke.

"Akutagawa-kun. Is Atobe with you?"

"Nah, Hiyoshi's mom drove a bunch of us down here. Atobe said he'd stop by if anything interesting was going to happen. You know how he likes to make an entrance." That was the understatement of the year. Jirou's voice sounded innocent enough, but his sudden appearance couldn't possibly be a coincidence. "Are you warming up for your match? I'll play with you!"

"Thank you, but I'm fine for the moment." Fuji served at the wall again, but to his amazement, Jirou was suddenly on the court, tripping over his own feet and hitting a perfect volley back to the wall that soared neatly over the tensai's left shoulder.

"Ah gomen! I didn't mean to lose it!" Jirou scrambled to his feet and over to his backpack, removing another ball. "Just play a little?" He served to the wall.

Somewhat amused, Fuji returned the ball, and before long the two had developed a unique doubles game against the concrete. Jirou chattered through the plays. "Did you see Marui-kun's match? Isn't that tightrope skill sugoi! Though I suppose not from your perspective... I tried to learn how to do it, but I can't get the spin to knock it to the opponent's side. Do you know how to do it?"

"It's not really my style."

"S'pose not. It's not really mine either. I make fun of Oshitari too much to take someone else's move."

Fuji couldn't help but smile a little more naturally at that. Despite everything, he found he liked Jirou, at least a little. He reasoned that one had to have a heart as black as a Fudomine uniform in a tar pit to not like Jirou at least a little. Still, that was no reason to trust the boy. After a few volleys, Jirou changed the subject. "So, is Tezuka really going to be okay?"

_Interesting question_. "I never thought a Hyotei player would ask me that."

"I'm not trying to be mean or anything. I just want to know." He returned the ball so it flew easily to Fuji's side of the court.

Fuji debated not answering, but he was now quite curious as to what Atobe's most devoted team member was after. "Tezuka is recovering well. He'll be fine by the time Nationals gets here."

Jirou gave a very genuine sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."

"I shouldn't think that's terribly good news for Hyotei."

"But it means Atobe can stop being all melancholy. He'd never admit it, but he feels really bad about that match. He hasn't bragged about it even once."

_Of course not, _Fuji reasoned. Few people boasted about incurring the tensai's wrath.

"He really didn't mean to injure your buchou. He thought he'd forfeit."

"Well he doesn't know Tezuka very well then, does he?" Fuji hit the ball back the wall with perhaps a little more force than necessary for a warm-up. Jirou caught it, though.

"No," Jirou laughed. "But he wants to make it up to him. That's why he started this silly wager thing, you know."

Fuji didn't know, and his surprise showed in a return that missed the wall by a quarter of an inch. Jirou dashed after it, catching it before it rolled too far. _Make it up to him?_ What did that mean? Jirou ignored his own words and served at the wall again. Fuji let the silence hold for a few volleys.

Finally, the tensai asked, "How exactly was he planning on making it up to Tezuka?"

Jirou turned to stare quizzically at Fuji, missing the ball at first, but tumbling backwards to catch it. After recovering his feet, he said, "With you of course. You know he wants you to win the bet, right?"

"Of course," Fuji replied, serving again.

"Do you know why?"

"Tezuka mentioned something about him thinking I was trying to cause him some harm. I assumed he was trying to prevent that."

Jirou laughed. "Yeah, that too. Mostly, though, he knows you could help Tezuka recover faster. But he also knew you'd never take his money, so he started the bet."

Fuji remained skeptical. Atobe didn't believe in selfless acts. Atobe believed in nothing without a distinct and overpowering sense of 'self.' "He told you all this?"

"Nah, I had to figure it out for myself." Jirou chuckled as he returned with a backhand. "Atobe doesn't like to admit that sometimes he's a nice guy."

"So if he didn't want me to know, why are you telling me?"

A few more volleys before Jirou answered. "I just thought that if you didn't already know, you should. Atobe's not trying to bribe you or anything, and he does want Tezuka to be okay. I don't know if it makes any difference to you, but I thought you should know."

"Mn."

They played a little while longer before Jirou announced. "The break's almost over. You should probably get back if you wanted to see Inui-san's match."

Fuji caught the ball. "I suppose you're right. Will you be watching?"

"Nah, data tennis makes me sleepy. Should I make Ohtori-kun wake me up for your match? Are you going to do anything cool?"

"Probably. Kirihara isn't likely to make the match an easy one. And I'll need to drag it out a bit."

"Sugoi! I'll see you after the games then. Atobe'll probably show up for the last one." Jirou waved and bounced back towards the area Hyotei had staked out to observe the matches.

So, even Atobe had someone who genuinely cared about him. It wasn't going to get him completely off of Fuji's blacklist, but it was ... cute. And Atobe attempting a surreptitious good deed ... Today was full of surprises. At this rate, a Seigaku comeback hardly seemed unlikely. He headed back towards the courts, feeling a little better than when he'd left.


	15. Chapter 15

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 15_

_A/N: The end is in sight. You know, I thought this was going to be a moderate TezFuji piece. Maybe eight chapters. This is what happens when you let Inui and Kaidoh step in for a subplot. Any thanks for sticking with me, especially all my reviewers and my super-betas. Waffles for everyone!_

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This would be a lot easier if Renji would stop calling him that.

This would also be a lot easier if he could stop looking to see who Kaidoh was standing next to (No one right now, though he'd spent 35 percent of the time next to Momoshiro, i.e. 35 percent more than Inui preferred).

"15-love!"

_Focus_, Inui told himself. This wasn't a match he could win distracted, and Renji was about to serve. Another round of serve and volley. Inui waited until he was 75 percent certain Renji would hit a cross shot. He ran to catch it

...and Renji returned it with a straight exactly where Inui had been standing.

"30-love!"

That was the problem with this match. Inui knew Renji's data, and Renji knew Inui's. Thus, Inui found himself thinking in sentences such as, _he'll hit a cross shot, but he knows I know he'll hit a cross shot, so he could hit a straight shot to throw me off unless he thinks I know he'll try to throw me off ..._ Nothing helped. It wasn't that he couldn't predict Renji's moves; it was that he could predict far too many.

His only consolation was Renji seemed to be in the same predicament. Inui knew Renji's sore spots as well as Renji knew his, and he had been able to keep the scores within a game of his rival. Still, his chances of winning stood at a mere 50 percent. If he didn't find some way to increase his own power soon, he could lose. How many laps did Tezuka assign when you lost the game you had given up a doubles spot to play, thus effectively costing the team two matches and the regional championship? Calculating past history and Inui's average speed, he supposed he might return to normal tennis practice before graduating college.

Not to mention Fuji's newest scheme would be ruined. Inui may have been annoyed at his involuntary participation in said scheme, but that didn't mean he wanted to incur any sort of tensai wrath. Fuji had already developed an immunity to the blue aozu, and it would be at least another month before Inui had a suitable substitute.

And Kaidoh was watching...

Was Kaidoh watching? Automatically, Inui glanced to check.

"40-love!"

Damn it, he was not going to go down like this. Not to Renji. Not in front of Kaidoh. Inui pushed up his glasses, attempting block out the occasional bits of banter Renji slung at him. He managed another two points before Renji caught on to his pattern, smashing to the opposite side of the court.

"Game, Rikkai Dai Fuzoku, Yanagi! Five games to four!"

Irritated, Inui stalked over to Ryuzaki-sensei and his water. He needed to calm down. He needed to stop looking to check Kaidoh's position. He needed his data. He snatched the notebook up off the bench, flipping the pages until he came to the well-worn crease displaying Renji's statistics. He found their last match, the analysis, the score of that unfinished game. Frantically, he searched the page for something that would help...

...and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kaidoh flinch.

_What am I doing?_

Inui spared a glance towards Renji, who was bent over his own notebook. Everything about this match felt familiar-- not in a comfortable, nostalgic sense, but more like an eerie, long-faded dream. Renji's style had not changed an iota from when he and Inui had been winning doubles tournaments. Still crisp, clean, and utterly flat. Renji played a mental game, and he didn't need a lot of power to do so. Inui had learned what a mistake relying completely on the numbers could be. Losing a regulars spot to two kouhai was not a lesson easily forgotten. His tennis had evolved considerably since those ranking matches. And he knew whom he had to thank for that.

Another glance showed Kaidoh had stopped watching the courts. His hands remained stuffed in his pockets, his eyes trained on the ground.

Kaidoh could beat Renji, Inui realized. Renji could predict every move Kaidoh made and still end up too worn out to return a shot. He had watched the second year train every day, had halved Kaidoh's training menus to keep his kouhai from injuring himself when he inevitably doubled them. Kaidoh had a passion and innate skill for the game that no amount of study could surpass. Renji could never compete against that.

Inui decided it was about time he proved that to Kaidoh.

Five games to four. The solution to winning this match was so utterly simple. Gingerly, Inui set the notebook down, leaning it against the pole. "The data is useless now," he mumbled just loudly enough for his opponent to hear -- hopefully, just loudly enough for Kaidoh to hear as well. He moved to the baseline to serve, adjusting his glasses as he did so. Sure they were secure in place, he closed his eyes and tried to remember what it had felt like to play without them. Instinct, Kaidoh called it. As good a term as any. If he'd just followed his instincts long ago, this whole mess may have been avoided. At the very least, he could repair the damage now by showing where his instincts truly pointed him.

"Five games to four. We appear to be back where we left off, Renji. You don't have any data from this point on," Inui called. Renji may have scowled, but Inui had stopped watching him. His eyes had refocused on the one spectator whose attention he needed right now.

Inui raised his arm and served.

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Momoshiro's expression of abject terror was an image Kaidoh planned to treasure and bring out to taunt the idiot next time he started getting touchy.

True, Inui-senpai had no right to be upset with Kaidoh, who would gladly explain the reason he had shown up late, disheveled, and in the company of Momoshiro as soon as they were in a less public location. Inui-senpai should have trusted him instead of burying himself in that damn notebook, and Kaidoh had had every right to stalk off and ignore Inui-senpai's match.

But this match was too important --to the tournament and to Inui-senpai. And it was Kaidoh's fault the Kanto title was in jeopardy anyway. Oishi-senpai's wrist couldn't be helped, but if he'd had his head more in his own match, he could have covered for Momoshiro's sloppy doubles skills. His unexpected river rescue mission was no excuse. Doubles two was his responsibility, and he'd blown it. So he had to watch Inui-senpai's match, and no one could question why he was so very interested in the outcome.

And who could not watch Inui-senpai demolish the court while uttering primal screams that dropped Momo's jaw to the bottom of the bleachers? Kaidoh felt absurdly proud, even as Inui's skill at singles forced tiny ripples of worry in the pit of his stomach.

"You look worried, Kaidoh. Did I miss something in the match? I thought Inui had finally sealed this game."

Kaidoh started at the sudden appearance of Fuji-senpai. Unconsciously, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shuffling a few steps away. Kaidoh didn't dislike Fuji; he just preferred the tensai standing a little farther away, especially without Tezuka-buchou here to monitor any schemes. "No, Fuji-senpai. Inui-senpai is going to win."

"Good. I was worried in the beginning, but I'll trust your opinion."

For a second, Kaidoh's eyes moved to stare quizzically at Fuji, before another point from Inui took them back to the court. Fuji-senpai truly wanted his opinion of the match? Most of the regulars at Seigaku, Kaidoh included, were under the impression that before the opponents had stepped onto the court, Inui and Fuji already knew the outcome. Inui-senpai used data, which was fair enough and didn't always work. Fuji-senpai probably used witchcraft. "Why ask me, senpai?"  
Fuji smiled that smile which made Kaidoh feel like a lab rat performing well in a psychological experiment. "Because you know Inui very well."

The mamushi turned his eyes back to the game where Inui took the match point, bringing the score to 6-5. Kaidoh watched Inui and Yanagi change courts, wishing he'd chosen to stand sullenly close enough to hear what the two were saying. Inui-senpai was smiling though, a victorious smile. Kaidoh remembered the crushed look on Inui-senpai's face when they'd lost to Hyotei. How long ago had that been? "No. I don't."

Fuji-senpai actually laughed then. Politely, but still chuckling. Kaidoh hissed to himself. He should know better than to mutter his thoughts around the tensai.

"I'm sorry, Kaidoh. It's just ... you remind me a little of myself right now."

_What? _Of all the people on the team to compare Kaidoh too, Fuji-senpai would be near the bottom of the list. Right above that idiot Momoshiro (whom he was _nothing_ like). Kaidoh raised an eyebrow.

"I've had that same thought when I watch Tezuka play a match. Some people are very difficult to truly understand, but that's the fun part, ne? Transparent people aren't nearly as interesting." Fuji's attention drifted back towards the game. "In any case, you know him well enough to play a very good doubles game. Few people could manage that with his style."

_If we play again_, Kaidoh thought, though he said nothing. He kept his eyes watching Inui-senpai's movements. This game would be the last one. Focusing on Inui helped him ignore that scientific stare Fuji-senpai was giving him.

"Saa, you think Inui might go back to singles, don't you?"

Kaidoh knew saying a single word would give him away. He had to use his energy to fight down the blush in his cheeks. Fuji-senpai obviously knew exactly how close a doubles team he and Inui-senpai had been, and he didn't need to know any more.

"Do you want to go back to singles, now that your Boomerang is more or less perfected?"

The question had come up before. Kaidoh watched Inui-senpai serve again, the ball vaguely resembling a photo of a comet Kaidoh had seen in a science textbook. No, he didn't want to go back to singles, but he didn't want to continue doubles with anyone else, either. He shook his head.

"Then you should join him on his cool down run after he wins. My match is likely to run very long if I have anything to say about it, so you won't miss anything. I imagine Inui will have quite a few things to discuss with you now that he's gotten this singles obsession out of his system." Fuji-senpai patted him on the shoulder, glanced at the clock, and then walked down to sit by Kikumaru-senpai.

Witchcraft. That was the only way Fuji-senpai could know these things.


	16. Chapter 16

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 16_

_A/N: Behold the very last chapter! Finally this story can stop eating away at my brain and leave room for the other variety of things eating my brain... including this Senbatsu series I'm working on... sigh. Thanks much for sticking with me on my ramblings, especially my reviewers. Waffles for Microgirl, Whisper, and CrimsonVictory for patting me on the shoulder and forcing me out of passive voice. _

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Inui heard the game count from a thousand miles away. The match was over, but his body felt numb and his ears rang. Did Kaidoh go through this every game? He stumbled toward the location he remembered Seigaku being in, completely unprepared for the flying Kikumaru that landed on his back.

"Yatta, Inui! Nice game!" the acrobatics specialist cried, locking an arm around his neck.

Inui's speech capabilities hadn't quite returned, though he could see the line of thumbs up from his teammates who all seemed to need to congratulate him at once. Everyone but Kaidoh, that is, who had separated himself from the mass of celebrators. Inui's eyes stayed on him even as the rest of the team whirled around in a blue and white blur.

"Ne, Eiji. We should buy Inui some celebratory Ponta," Fuji suggested.

Kikumaru released his headlock. "Right! We should toast!" Skillfully, the two rounded up the rest of the team, none of whom apparently remembered that Inui detested the vile sugar water which contained no nutritional substance and was probably stunting Echizen's growth. In a few moments, he was alone with Kaidoh.

Awkward silence before Kaidoh said quietly, without looking Inui in the eye, "Nice game, senpai."

"Ah. It was ...different. Honestly, I can't remember much of the last three rounds. I believe this is the first time I've ever walked away from a match with no new data. Do you always feel so disoriented after playing?"

"Not always," Kaidoh kept his eyes downcast. "You've learned a lot. Even Fuji-senpai thinks so."

"I had an excellent instructor," Inui tried, to which Kaidoh merely shrugged. Inui's stomach churned. In the heat of the competition, he'd forgotten what a jerk he'd been of late. And he had no data on this to calculate his odds of mending the situation.

A deep breath. He didn't need the data anymore. Not for Kaidoh.

"Kaidoh." That at least got his eyes focused on him --staggeringly dark eyes behind the shadow of his hair. Inui gulped. He hadn't prepared a thing, but this couldn't wait a second longer. "Kaidoh, I have been a terrible doubles partner and a far worse boyfriend. I cannot guarantee a zero percent chance of relapsing, but with your permission, I would like to try again."

Inui counted 7.38 seconds before Kaidoh answered. It felt easily like 14.94.

And then Kaidoh's lips curved upwards into a hint of a smile. "We should go on a cool down run, senpai."

That was not an answer. "Kaidoh ..."

"Senpai, if you don't go on a cool down run down, your legs will cramp and you won't be able to practice. We can't work on the new formation if you can't practice." Kaidoh handed Inui a towel, which the older boy automatically accepted, marveling that Kaidoh allowed their hands to stay connected in that way, fingers just brushing against each other. "And several hundred people are not watching us if we are on a cool down run."

For the first time since the match had ended, Inui realized that though Seigaku had given them their privacy, the stands were packed with spectators, many of whom had brought cameras.

"Let's go, senpai." Kaidoh started off at a jog. Inui followed. Oishi and Kikumaru generally disappeared about thirty meters down the footpath near the water fountains. There would probably be enough cover there for Inui to kiss the smirk off of Kaidoh's face. Several times, if necessary.

The wind stubbornly refused to blow. As Atobe and Fuji met on opposite ends of the footpath, no tumbleweed rolled past, and neither boy's hair ruffled dramatically. Apparently, even Fuji's signature element found this whole standoff just plain silly.

Jirou personally didn't have much of an attention span for such things, and he was very tired. Marui-kun's match had depleted most of his energy and working on Fuji had taken the rest. Sanada and Echizen hadn't even played an interesting game. It wasn't original or shiny, just really, really long. Jirou really wished Atobe would hurry up so they could go home.

Inui appeared to share his sentiments. The analyst stood a meter behind Fuji, brow furrowed in irritation. He obviously had somewhere better to be (Jirou had a pretty good idea where as he'd been napping near the water fountains after Inui's match). Still, neither Fuji nor Atobe seemed to feel like breaking the dramatic pause.

Just as Jirou was about to doze off completely, Atobe spoke. "Ore-sama was unaware Sanada's wife was going to be undergoing surgery during the match."

"Sanada's psychological state was not a factor in the wager," Fuji countered. "Echizen won."

"Indeed." Atobe sighed, shrugging elegantly. Atobe was the only person Jirou knew who thought shrugs should be performed with flourish. "It appears you've won then. Give my best regards to Tezuka. Ore-sama's people will deal with the ticket."

Jirou's eyes opened a fraction wider to observe Fuji. If the tensai was going to balk, he would do so here. Jirou had done everything in his power to earn Fuji's sympathy and understanding, but he still had no idea if Fuji would let Atobe off the hook. He'd been congenial on the practice court, but Fuji was always congenial. At the moment, his eyes looked like they could very congenially shoot laser beams through Atobe's neck.

And then Inui said, "Tickets."

All eyes refocused on the data player, who was absently skimming the wager's contents.

Atobe recovered first. "Pardon?"

"We'll require nine of them."

"Nine?" Fuji was taking very deliberate, slow breaths. That was probably not a good sign.

"The eight of us, plus we'll need at least one chaperone for any of our parents to allow it. I'm sure Ryuzaki-sensei would enjoy the vacation."

Atobe was slowly turning a very pretty shade of fuscia. He had a shirt that would match his new skin tone perfectly.

"Inui, what are you talking about?" Fuji asked, his smile strained.

"The most updated draft of the wager clearly states that in the event of Echizen's victory over Sanada in singles one, the Hyotei representative -- namely Atobe Keigo -- would fund a trip for, I quote 'the whole damn team' i.e. Seigaku, to Germany for the purpose of visiting their buchou. Thus, we will require nine tickets."

Atobe had a feather boa that about matched the current shade of Fuji's face.

"Inui, I don't believe--"

"Ore-sama never--"

"Akutagawa-kun. Would you confirm the amendment to the wager?"

Jirou stretched, trying very hard to remain sleepy-looking and not allow the giggle fit inside to burst out. "You did say it, Atobe. At the restauraunt. I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget." He produced a somewhat crumpled copy of the wager, complete with his marginal notes.

"Jirou, ore-sama did not tell you to write that down," Atobe said through gritted teeth.

"Well you didn't tell me much of anything about this wager. I figured it was my responsibility," Jirou shrugged. He wasn't going to get to sleep through practices for at least two weeks, but it was worth it. That'd teach Atobe to think he could keep secrets.

Meanwhile, Fuji was speaking to Inui in slow, even tones as if he were reading an instruction manual. Well, maybe an instruction manual for a guillotine. "Inui, while I enjoy the company of the team, I do not require any amount of chaperoning on this trip, so I believe Atobe-san and I both agree that --"

"I cannot alter the previous agreement, Fuji. It would be unethical. The team will be very excited to make the trip. I'll inform them at the celebration later, but now I have a prior engagement to attend to." He nodded to the three of them and proceeded to head back towards where Seigaku was dispersing.

Atobe and Fuji watched him walk away, both of their eyes wide in amazement. They then turned to each other, exchanging another glare that begged for some sort of lightning strike to land between them. Jirou inched a few paces back.

Finally, Atobe pressed one hand against his forehead as he usually did when staving off a headache. "Are we even yet, Fuji?"

Jirou was amazed Fuji could get words out between a jaw clenched that tightly shut. "Honestly, I really don't care anymore."

"Fine. Ore-sama's people will deal with whatever arrangements are necessary. Let's not speak again until the next tournament, ah?"

"Agreed." The tensai and the aristocrat both turned to stalk away in opposite directions.

Jirou snickered to himself. He'd really been hoping Inui would do that. It was about time the two of them cooled down about this whole Tezuka issue. All Jirou wanted to do now was go home and --

The sleepiness abruptly faded as Jirou realized Hiyoshi's mom had already picked everyone else up. He'd stuck around to see how the wager turned out ... aw crap.

"Oy, Atobe! Wait up!" Jirou tore after the buchou. If he pouted enough, he might be able to still get a ride home.

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_A/N: The end! The end! The end! Hope everyone enjoyed the strangled route this ruddy story decided to take. Please keep in mind that most of the time, I was not driving this fic. I'm not sure who was. It might have been Kaidoh. I'll post my ultra-sappy epilogue in a bit because I feel like I've earned an ultra-sappy epilogue and dammit I miss my buchou._


	17. Epilogue

_A Gentlemen's Wager, Epilogue_

_  
A/N: As it so happens, this story has an epilogue. Are you curious about the epilogue?_

_(Ten points and a chocolate chip cookie to anyone who gets this reference). Anyway, I hope this ties up any loose ends people may have found in the previous chapter and gives my fellow TezFuji fangirls some much needed service. If it doesn't, umm... it's all Fuji's fault.  
_

_Fair warning: This bit contains a large dose of tooth-decaying sugar. I'm a fangirl. It's what I do._

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Most people believed Tezuka had traded his sense of humor at birth for superior tennis skills. Fuji knew this was untrue and had three separate occasions to prove the fact.

The first occurred their freshman year, not long after Fuji's transfer to Seigaku. Inui decided to offer Yamato-buchou the first sample of Inui Jiru, a concoction the color of a dark chocolate bar dropped in puddle of mud. As Yamato's sunglasses hit the tennis court, Tezuka's mouth turned upward just around the edges in what may have been a genuine smile.

The second happened later that same year when some third years from the basketball club thought it would be fun to pick on Taka-san. At least, they thought it was fun until Fuji nonchalantly handed his friend a tennis racquet. When Fuji turned away from the fleeing senpai and shouts of bad English, he swore he saw Tezuka smirk, even if only for a fraction of a second.

Fuji's final clue came in their second year, after the Golden Pair began dating but before they learned a modicum of discretion. Tezuka, Fuji, and Ryuzaki-sensei had been walking back towards the clubhouse to search for the missing clipboard with the ranking match outlines on it. Ryuzaki-sensei opened the door, turned pomegranate red, and proceeded to assign Oishi and Kikumaru both twenty laps to be run in opposite directions under supervision. The two sprinted off an equally crimson color, and Tezuka shook his head, his breathing hitching just slightly. Fuji never confirmed the instance, but it may have been a tightly controlled chuckle.

So Fuji knew Tezuka possessed sense of humor; it was just more elusive than most creatures of the Madagascar rainforest. Still, in all of the time Fuji had known Tezuka, he had never actually seen the buchou laugh ... until now.

"I really don't see what is so funny," Fuji said, arms crossed. The first moment they'd had alone since the plane had landed in Germany, and Tezuka was going to spend it laughing at him. Actually laughing, though trying so hard to control it that tears forced out behind his glasses.

"Yes, you do," Tezuka replied. He took off his glasses to wipe his eyes. Either that or he realized the effect a glasses-free Tezuka had on Fuji, though that trick was _not_ going to work no matter how long they'd been apart. Besides, Fuji'd only managed to get one quick kiss before Tezuka demanded to know how the tensai had pulled off Seigaku's well-funded vacation and whether or not any laws had been broken. Fuji had every right to remain insulted.

"No, I don't. Inui wrecked a perfectly good plan." And Inui would pay for wrecking a perfectly good plan. Fuji hadn't figured out exactly how yet, but it was a big city. A lot of things could happen to a young, poor foreigner that Fuji couldn't possibly be held responsible for.

"You still made it here," Tezuka argued, resetting his glasses. Fuji refused to look disappointed.

"Yes, but I shouldn't have. Certainly not with the entire team to babysit. And Atobe probably thinks he's safe now."

"Atobe _is_ safe," Tezuka stated, leaving no room for argument. "And probably in a great deal of trouble with his parents after they see the bill for this trip, so you should be satisfied."

Fuji shrugged. "I'm very tired of it anyway."

"That will do. And I don't mind the team being here. It's good to see them."

Fuji raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Perhaps I should go find them, then," he started to stand. "Eiji promised to keep everyone busy for a bit, but I can always ..."

"Syusuke."

Fuji froze before he'd completely risen from the bed. Clearly, he was hallucinating. Tezuka didn't just...

A hand circled Fuji's wrist, tugging him back onto the bed. Fuji realized he must look extremely startled to earn the satisfied expression on Tezuka's face. The buchou had been planning this. All that work, and Tezuka stole the upper hand as easily as that. "Syusuke, I really don't care how you got here or who came with you. You're here."

Tezuka pressed his lips against Fuji's, one hand still holding his arm, the other encircling his waist. For that moment, Fuji forgot about the team and the bet and even Tezuka's injury. The world blurred until it contained nothing tangible except that warmth and the taste that was always part jasmine tea and part something uniquely Tezuka.

Sometimes, Fuji wondered why he went to the lengths he did for someone as stubborn, competitive, unemotive, and generally difficult as Tezuka Kunimitsu.

And sometimes, he remembered.


End file.
